


Kerosene and Desire

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exes, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mild Smut, Notebook AU, Old Flames, Oliver's her Noah of course, PTSD, Violence, You will hate Adrian, literally hate, not the fun kinda hate, physical violence, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: An Olicity Notebook AU with a darker twist.





	1. Don't Look Back, Not for Anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little nugget is a bit darker than what I usually write, so I want to put a warning here (please note tags). It’s the result of a binge of Netflix’s You, especially Beck’s poem in the show’s finale that I’ve been obsessed with for weeks now (there are pieces of the poem in the story, italicized as Felicity’s inner thoughts, so credit to the You writers!)  
> This fic will have elements of abuse and unhealthy relationships. It is not graphic, but it is referenced. And it is Olicity. And it’s me. You can count on a happy ending. I’ve been calling it my Dark Notebook AU, so there’s that. :)

Arrow out of context prompt:

allimariexf said: Oooh hello! #5 pls! :D (also in the post you said season 2 but I think you meant season 3 ;) Thanks!

 

_“I’m not running away. I’m running to you.”_

 

* * *

_How the hell did you end up here?_

Felicity’s hands shake as she grips the steering wheel in front of her. The dark trees race passed her window, and light from her headlights bounce off of them in a menacing sort of way. 

It isn’t just the sinister looking forest that sends shivers down her spine. The scene she’d fled from was just as sinister.

_You knew somewhere deep it was too good to be true. But you let yourself to be swept._

She shakes her head at herself, her eyes flickering down to the heavy ring on her finger. 

She’d always thought that a diamond ring, a beautiful house full of beautiful kids, and climbing the ladder of success in her career, were her life goals. It’d been the dream. The fairy tale. And she thought she had finally found the man to give her everything she wanted.

And maybe she had...but a long time ago.

Felicity sucks in a deep breath, releasing it slowly and blinking back tears when they threatened to fall.

The closer she gets to Central City, to  _him_ , the more anxious she becomes. The road in front of her is unknown and terrifying. It could break her heart all over again. But the life behind her is so much worse. 

Disgusted at the thought of him, Felicity pulls the cumbersome ring from her left finger, hurling it at the floor of the passenger seat and hearing it ding against the car door. She already feels like a piece of her burden is lifted, her finger and her heart feeling lighter.

Still, Felicity knows that it isn’t too late to undo all of it. She doesn’t have to blow her entire life up. She could turn the car around. Fix it. Go back to the monster she’d once called a man. 

_You needed to be saved._

She could forgive him, pretend it never happened, take it all back. She could bury it the way he buried every horrible part of himself. She could smile. Even when she felt like screaming.

Knowing Adrian, he’d end up exploiting an apology from her one way or another. Somehow. With trembling lips, she always relented. He always seemed to win, always got his way.

It’s something she will never understand. And she doesn’t want to understand someone so twisted and hurtful. She doesn’t want to think about the fact that she had met him while her heart was broken, and he had put the shattered pieces back together...but he’d done it all wrong, to the point where she wished he’d never touched them at all.

Yet, she’s afraid. Is she really ready to throw everything away? Be the girl who calls off her wedding before she makes it down the aisle?

_Didn’t you want this? To be loved? Didn’t you want him to crown you? Didn’t you ask for it?_

A harsh shiver runs through her, bile rising in her throat that she swallows.

 _You could go back. S_ _ay you love him. Say you can live like this...anything but the truth...._   _What if you_ can’t  _love him back?_

The thoughts make her stomach churn even more, her head filling with fears. What will her friends think? Her mother, who is more excited for this wedding than she is? What will they say if she tells them the truth? Will they even believe her? She knows the man she almost married. He’s charming and persuasive. He’d done enough to fool her, how could she blame everyone else for believing the devil’s tricks, when she’d done the same for nearly two years?

Tears spring in her eyes that she can’t hold back this time. So much change all at once. Too much. Her world is being turned upside down, and she feels like she just needs to keep her head above water but there are too many waves crashing around her and she doesn’t know how to swim. It’s overwhelming.

Felicity huffs, moving to roll her window down, letting in the chilly breeze of a fall night. The air stings across her wet cheeks, and her hands tighten on the wheel again, her knuckles turning white as she drives towards one of the safest places she’s ever been.  _Him_.

_There is no going back. You don’t love Adrian._

She glances down at her hands, seeing her finger bare. Its unchained from the ring that had felt wrong ever since the day she let Adrian slide it on. 

Suddenly, the wind feels exhilarating. She never has to look down at the thing again. She never has to feel it weighing down on her hand, more like a burden than a promise. Now, she knows where she was going, or rather to  _who_. 

And Felicity feels free.

For the first time in two years, she feels free.

And she laughs.

She laughs and cries and lets all of the emotions mix together, allowing herself to feel them. There is no point in biting her tongue anymore. No point in swallowing down how she feels. The problem had never been  _her_. It had always been Adrian Chase. And it is such a relief for her to finally accept that.

With her window down, Felicity screams.

She screams for all of the times she’d felt like less of a person because Adrian had told her that she was. And she screams for all of the moments she’d actually believed that, keeping her mouth shut instead of speaking her mind. She screams for every skeleton she’d found in his closet. For every inch of her he’d stolen while she’d had her back turned. Every tear shed, hating herself for things out of her control. Things about him that she can't fix. That no one can fix. For the nights she fought for a relationship that is unworthy of her. Simply because she’d seen it as something to be saved rather than the wreck that it is. That he is.

When the sign for Central City appears, Felicity finally quiets, her throat raw. She wipes at the tears on her face, sniffling as she tries to gain her composure.

 _He_ is only minutes away.

The fact that she’d found and remembered Oliver Queen’s address since the day she found out he moved to Central City probably should’ve told her something. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, she’d always known she’d end up here. Running. Maybe he had always been the one she wanted to run to.

Felicity slows down as she reaches his street, glancing up at each of the charming houses in his quiet neighborhood until she finds his. 

It’s large,  _but not the biggest on the street,_  just like she’d told him once, when he’d asked where she wanted to live when they grew old. And Felicity’s mouth falls open as she pulls into his driveway and turns off the car.

All she can do was stare in stunned silence. 

The size of the house isn’t the only thing that reminds her of that long-ago conversation they’d shared. It is also painted blue with white shutters and trim, a small garden of flowers sits in the yard, and it has a wide front porch with a swing.

It is  _exactly_ like the house she’d told him about when they were young. But it is even better than the daydream in her head. Not only had he remembered it, because the similarities are way too eerie to be coincidences...but he’d  _done_ it. 

Two years of silence from the man, yet he’d bought and created the house she said she’d always wanted. Maybe it also said something that her dream house was a fantasy she’d kept hidden from Adrian...preserving it as if she still had hope she could share it with Oliver one day, no matter how many times she told herself it was over.

Felicity opens her car door, stepping onto the paved driveway with her eyes still on the house, only blinking when necessary. 

His porch light is still on, even though it’s late. 

Rationally, Felicity knows that he didn’t leave it on because he’d been waiting for her to come home to him. But she lets herself romanticize the thought. Using it to push her feet forward, walking on shaky legs.

The door opens when she reaches the front steps, and Oliver steps outside, crossing his arms as his eyes adjust to the light. He blinks, noticing her car in the drive before he sees her.

Felicity freezes, her hand on the railing as she stares up at him.

He looks older. More handsome than ever, but she imagines that the two years they’d been apart had been just as rough on him as they’d been on her.

His eyebrows furrow as his gaze slides from the car to her. And he freezes too, his eyes widening. They stare at each other for a long moment. Do nothing but stare and breathe and stare some more. Until Oliver finally breaks the spell. “Felicity?” He whispers.

“Hi, Oliver,” she mumbles back.

He continues to gape at her for a moment longer, like he isn’t sure what to make of it. Of her. She feels like the shell of the person he once knew, and he looks at her like he’s seeing a ghost. It makes sense, and that’s unsettling. 

But then Oliver whispers her name again; the same wonder and affection in the way he says it that she still remembers. That she still hears in her dreams sometimes. And Felicity finds herself moving up the stairs towards him. 

“What are you doing here?” Oliver asks as she stops in front of him on his porch.

_Wasn’t that the question. How the hell did you end up here?_

Felicity blinks up at Oliver, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she tries to find the words. Her mind races with everything she wants to say but none of them make it to her mouth. 

Seeing her flounder, Oliver lifts a hand, raising it as if he’s going to brush her hair back like he used to. He drops it before he makes contact though, and Felicity feels regret immediately. She wants to feel his warm palm on her cheek, his gentle fingers combing through her hair. The way his hands felt on her skin and the things she would do whenever they were on her...those memories are still some of her fondest comforts.

God, she’s never wanted someone to touch her this much. But she craves it, staring back at him while he rubs his fingers together, never acknowledging how much she’s truly missed him until that moment.

“Do you want to come in?”

A long silence passes between them, one where Felicity both realizes and placates the idea that Oliver might not be alone. That he could have a fiancé of his own. One that he loves as well as he’d once loved her.

Felicity nods.

If those thoughts had come to mind while she’d been driving to the house, she very well might’ve turned the car around, afraid of how badly it would hurt. But being there, seeing him again and seeing what he’d done with that house...she steps through the door bravely, not anticipating any wife or children to pop out of the corner.

He’s alone...she can feel it.

Oliver had never been one for words. He said what mattered, had told her so many eloquent and beautiful things to express the feelings he had for her, but the man in front of her now is more guarded. More like the shy boy he was when they’d first met.

Silently, he leads her through the foyer, down a spacious hallway and into his kitchen, flicking on the lights in the house as he goes.

Finally getting a better look at him, Felicity realizes that she had definitely woken him up. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, and a white t-shirt that hugs muscles she isn’t familiar with. Completely gorgeous, get-your-heart-racing muscles. More defined than the body she'd once known as well as her own.

His hair is disheveled, longer and messy from sleep. And he has a slight beard, making him look different, older. But he is just as beautiful as she remembered. It makes her heart ache for all the months she’d gone without seeing that face.

“Can I get you some water?” Oliver asks, glancing over his shoulder at her with his hand already reaching for the cabinet.

“Sure,” Felicity glances away from him, taking in the house. That night he’d asked her about where she wanted to live, she’d mentioned a quiet neighborhood where they could raise a family. And although she didn’t say a single word about the  _inside_ of her dream home, Felicity couldn’t shake the feeling that Oliver had painted the walls and picked each detail with her in mind.

With her eyes on the vibrant, warm yellow walls of his kitchen, she immediately remembers his old habit of always calling her ‘sunshine’ in the morning, or when she got excited about something, or when she babbled. And the hairs on her arms stand up, selfishly hoping that maybe those walls remind him of her while he the stands in this kitchen and drinks his coffee each morning.

Approaching slowly, Oliver holds out a glass of water, one for himself in his other hand. Felicity accepts it with a smile, seeing his thoughts like an open book, like no time had passed at all. Mostly, he looks confused. But Felicity doesn’t see any anger or irritation in his expression. Just curiosity. 

He has a clear view of her in the kitchen light, and she watches his eyes narrow. Felicity fidgets, feeling self-conscious because she’s sure that she looks like a wreck. And because Oliver has always been so good at reading her. She can see in his eyes that he’s trying to; probably trying to understand why she came. 

And she knows the exact moment when he realizes she’d been crying. His eyes darken, his back stiffening, and her heart jumps in her throat. Felicity has no idea why, but her tears had always struck a protective, violent cord inside of him. Like he’d put an end to whatever or whoever made her cry. It was something that she used to secretly love, even as she’d tease him and tell him to settle down.

Now though...it kind of just takes her breath away to see that look in his eyes.

Clearing her throat, Felicity pulls her eyes away from him, taking a sip of water as she looks around the room again. “You actually did it,” she mumbles, changing the subject because the way he’s looking at her makes her want to get a refresher on kissing Oliver Queen. 

They might as well talk about at least one of the elephants in the room. Felicity runs her hand over the kitchen counter, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful, Oliver.” She forces a smile when he bites his lip, not answering. “I seem to recall you being the one saying that a blue house was a crazy idea.”

When he continues to stay silent, Felicity spares him a glance, her heart still pounding. “Not that you painted it blue just because I mentioned it years ago. I mean, maybe you don’t even remember,” she babbles, getting nervous under his gaze. “Maybe you completely forgot about all of that and it’s just a coincidence and I’m being a total loser thinking it had something to do with me—”

“No,” he whispers quietly before clamping his lips shut again. But she still knows him well enough to understand all the words behind his one.  _No, you’re not a loser. No, you’re not wrong. Yes, it absolutely has something to do with you._

He says so much with his eyes. And Felicity can’t explain the relief she feels to know that that hasn’t changed.

The air between them remains electric, an old flame flickering back to light, still trying to find its life. Neither of them know what to do here. Oliver is watching her, his gaze focused, and she knows that his shrug in response is all she’s getting from him on the subject. For now. But she has a million questions. Starting with ‘ _why did you make this place when you said I would never see you again?’_

The man is the most passionate person Felicity has ever met, but he takes a little while to warm up to people. She had loved being an exception to the rule. The one who he allowed to see him underneath his tough exterior. She was his soft spot, and she  _loved_ it. 

But Oliver clearly isn’t about to fall back into the way they were. Not so easily.

Even if the idea is everything Felicity wants in that moment.

“What are you doing here, Felicity?”

“I...I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t uh, I can’t really go home right now. And I guess I um—I got in my car and I just started driving. I didn’t plan on coming here, but I realized that I was, and I told myself to find a motel, to just  _stop_..." She met his eyes, "but I wanted to see you.”

Oliver hesitates, analyzing her. He also isn’t one to beat around the bush. “I heard that you're engaged,” he whispers.

Felicity raises an eyebrow in question, wondering where he would’ve heard that. Their circle of friends had mostly stayed in Starling. And Felicity knows that they don’t keep in touch with Oliver, after he’d given them the same abrupt goodbye he’d given her when he left. Oliver shrugs noncommittally again, his expression controlled and neutral, not letting her see anything beyond his mild curiosity.

It gets under her skin, reminding her of the way she used to affect him. The magic she seemed to have over him that always made her feel beautiful, and confident, and adored. She hates the walls up around him now. And she absolutely misses how intoxicating it felt to be with him, to know that  _Oliver Queen_ loved her,worshiped her, felt drawn to her, was fascinated by her. 

_But maybe you don’t have that kind of power. You’ve already learned...you don’t have whatever magic it takes to turn a beast into a prince._

Blinking, Felicity tries to swallow the terrible thought back down, knowing that Oliver’s intent gaze is on her. No one has ever made her feel like Oliver once did. But she had tried to find it with someone else. Without realizing, she’d tried to love Adrian the way she’d loved Oliver. She’d done everything she could to see him the same way, to change him because she thought there was good inside of him.

Maybe there are people out there who could do something like that. Turn someone like Adrian into someone like Oliver. Change them for the better.  _Fix_ them. Or maybe...people like Adrian aren't capable of being people like Oliver. Maybe her biggest mistake was thinking that he could be.

“I’m sorry,” the words fall from her mouth with a breathy whisper, her eyes slamming shut. Felicity is so used to apologizing for her tears, she isn't sure she can remember what it feels like to have someone hold her when she cries, rather than brush her away with an irritated ‘stop being so dramatic.’ 

It had left a mark. A hollow feeling in her heart...yet she hadn’t even noticed. She’d pushed it all down. Pretended not to see the differences between Oliver Queen and everyone else. 

Biting her lip, hard, Felicity holds back the sob that wants desperately to escape her throat.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty,_ ” she hears Oliver breathe her name.

It’s that special way he says it. How could she have ever forgotten  _that_? God, no one else even  _says her name_  like he does. Like a spell or some kind of prayer; she doesn’t know which, and she doesn’t care, either. 

When Felicity opens her eyes, Oliver is moving towards her.

He’d set his glass aside, his hands outstretched as he slowly closes the distance. They cup her face as soon as he reaches her, his thumbs grazing her cheeks while he gently lifts her head towards him, making her meet his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he speaks lowly, the words sounding like a question and a plea all at once.

She whimpers, leaning her face into his palm and sucking in a breath. 

There isn’t anywhere else she’d rather be.

Surprising her, Oliver pulls her into his arms, wrapping her up in a warm, tight hug. He holds her as if he’s keeping her safe from whatever it is, whatever is outside of his embrace that had hurt her...like he knows there’s something. Something bad.

Felicity buries her face in his neck, her eyes closing at the familiar, comforting scent of him. Oliver’s hand comes up to the back of her head, his cheek turning into her hair. Once she finally controls her breathing, she swears she feels his lips press against the crown of her head. “Are you hungry?" Oliver murmurs, letting her off the hook from the questioning. "My grilled cheese sandwich making skills have really improved."

“Sure,” Felicity chuckles, her breath shaky. She anticipates it when he begins to pull away, but still feeling the loss and the cold air as soon as she’s out of his arms.

Pulling out a chair at the island counter, Oliver gestures for her to sit. He doesn’t speak as he backs away, turning to the fridge as soon as she’s settled. He takes out what he needs, turning the stove on on his way. For something as simple as a sandwich, it becomes clear to Felicity that his natural talent in the kitchen has not been lost at all. And Oliver doesn’t speak, so Felicity doesn’t either, letting him work in peace.

When he’s done, he smiles shyly, carrying two plates over to Felicity and taking the seat beside her. It’d been far too long since she’d seen the man’s smile, and it inspires one of her own, her heart feeling lighter at the sight of it. Then he puts the grilled cheese in front of her, and she groans, the smell reaching her nose. “God, I missed your cooking,” she sighs, realizing how hungry she is.

Oliver shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh around a nearly silent “I missed  _you_.”

Her eyes snap up to his, and she knows she didn’t hear him wrong. His eyes echo the words. Felicity holds her breath, “I missed you, too.”

After a moment too long of eye contact that began to feel more like eye  _sex_ , if she isn’t mistaken, Oliver finally looks away. Then he clears his throat, and they eat in relatively awkward peace. The icy atmosphere melts a little when Oliver asks about her mom, a few bites into his grilled cheese and apparently unsatisfied with more silence. Felicity relaxes, answering _those_ questions with ease. 

They sit for a while even after both of them are finished, talking about their families, jobs, and the house, although he still doesn’t mention  _why_ he’d had the house done in this way, like he’d plucked her brain for inspiration. Instead, Oliver and Felicity stick to safer topics, letting the conversation warm them up to each other again.

Eventually though, it dies down. And Felicity covers a yawn, prompting Oliver to smile at her before getting up to clear their plates. 

She feels like it’s time. Time to thank him for not shooing her off his front porch. Thank him for the food and the hospitality. Apologize for dropping in unexpectedly in the middle of the night. Tell him how wonderful it’d been to talk to him, how great he looks, that she hopes she can see him again.

None of it makes it out of her head. 

Because Felicity doesn’t want to say goodbye. She doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

Putting the plates in the sink, Oliver slowly turns, his eyes finding hers. “Are you going home tonight?” He asks, his bottom lip disappearing as he bites it.

She cocks her head to the side, noting his careful wording. “No...I—I'll find a hotel on the way back and deal with everything in the morning,” she answers just as carefully.

Oliver nods, pausing for a moment. “You’re welcome to stay,” he whispers, his eyes trained on hers, “the guest bedroom is just down the hall.” A knowing smile passes his lips, “it’s got a pretty nice bathtub.”

“Mmm,” she smiles back, “I do love bathtubs.”

“I remember,” he sighs, his breath catching as he glances away.

* * *

A bath is exactly what she’d needed. 

The steam filling the room and the warm, soapy water feel like they are cleansing her of all the things she’d left in Starling, washing it off.

His bathroom isn’t equipped for overnight guests, which makes her feel better than it should. Especially because some spare pajamas would be better than putting her jeans back on.

Opening the bathroom door as she holds her towel up at her breasts, Felicity peeks her head out. She can hear Oliver somewhere in another room, and she quickly tiptoes on her wet, bare feet across the darkened hall to the guest bedroom he’d showed her earlier.

“Oh,” Felicity practically groans in relief when she sees a pair of boxers and one of his flannels folded neatly on the bed for her. She combs her fingers through her hair first, dropping the towel and using it to dry the ends. One of the first things she’d noticed when Oliver showed her the guest room was the mirror in the corner, and her eyes instinctively avoid it as she walks passed, her body on full display.

The shirt Oliver left for her is more like a dress, falling to her thighs, and her body is tired enough to forget the boxers and crawl under the blankets of his cozy-looking guest bed.

But Felicity’s head is full, and she isn't sure how she can sleep when the sun would come up soon, and she'd have to be on her way. Playing with the sleeve of his warm blue flannel, smelling his familiar scent, Felicity's mind races. She still has so many questions. So many things to say. Even though their quiet conversation, shared meal, and unclear emotions had healed some old wounds, it isn't enough. And she’s far too curious about Oliver Queen and the house to leave it at that.

So, she gets back up and pulls the boxers on, rolling them at the waist a few times until they’re comfortable shorts on her. Then she shrugs, avoiding the mirror again and leaving the room to investigate.

As Felicity walks quietly down the hallway, back towards the kitchen, she catches sight of Oliver in the room he’d called his study; pointing it out in passing as he showed her where the guest bedroom is, and that amazing bathtub.

It’s a cozy looking room, just like the rest of the house, consisting of a simple desk, a couch, a large bookcase, and a little fireplace. Felicity notices him at the fireplace, kneeling with a log in each hand while some healthy flames flicker in front of him.

“Hey,” Felicity offers, hesitating in the doorway.

Oliver glances over his shoulder at her, inviting her in with a simple jerk of his head.

Stepping inside, Felicity crosses her arms, considering the couch for a moment before thinking better. She does grab the blanket off of it, bringing it closer to the fire and plopping down right next to him, getting comfy.

His eyes shift down to her, his lips twitching with a smile as he refocuses on the fire, hesitating a moment before adding the logs on. Then he sits back, leaning against the back of the couch and looking at her again. She feels his gaze on the side of her face while she watches the flames. But unlike the eyes of the man she’d left in Starling, Oliver’s gaze doesn’t make her squirm. Felicity can’t help but revel in Oliver’s attention, never wanting him to look away.

Finally, Felicity pulls the blanket from her lap, holding out half of it to him like a peace offering. 

As she looks up at Oliver, she feels nothing but relief and comfort, the emotion escaping her with a sigh. It’s everything she remembers, longs for, and needs. All of his passion is kept behind those blue eyes of his.

And she wants it back.

More than anything, she wants to be loved like that again. By _him_. She wants to learn what it’s like all over again; how it feels to give so much of herself to someone who is strong enough not only to hold it, but to give the same amount of himself back. She wants to feel that way again. Like nothing in the world can stop her. Oliver didn't define that feeling, she knew that. But he sure as hell supported it.

Not too long ago, the idea of getting her heart broken by Oliver again had been the worst possible thing imaginable. But even if she does, she understands now that it’s worth it. Because Oliver Queen is the the kind of man who loves with all his heart. And he is worth the risk. Every single time.

“Why did you leave?” She finds herself whispering, her heart launching into her throat as soon as the words are out.

Oliver freezes for a moment, glancing down at her as if he’s trying to see whether or not she wants the real answer. After a long pause, he answers. “I couldn’t be there anymore, Felicity. After my mom...I had to go. And I knew it wasn’t fair of me to ask you to come with me.”

“But I would have.”

His eyes meet hers again, the fire in them sparking as he nods slowly, “I know.”

“Did you not want me to?”

“Felicity,” he sighs, leaning a little closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. “I was incredibly broken back then. I needed to be alone, but there was never a day when I didn’t want you. You were the only thing that felt right in my life, and I just...I didn’t think I deserved it. You.”

“You did.”

“Yeah,” Oliver’s eyebrows furrow. “Trust me, I know how stupid it was. Unfortunately I took a little too long to realize it.”

Felicity stares at his profile, digesting his words. He knew about her engagement, and she realizes that he must’ve known she’d moved on. Or at least, they’d both thought she did. “Who told you? About Adrian.”

He sucks in a breath, pinching his lips together before finally looking over at her sheepishly. “Cisco.”

“Ah,” she nods, a fake smile crossing her lips. “I should have known.”

“He said you were happy.”

Nodding slowly, Felicity looks back at the fire. “I’m sure any of our friends would’ve told you the same thing,” she shrugs, lifting the shoulder that is pressed against his.

Oliver’s eyes bounce between hers as he looks down his nose at her, studying her and reading her like only he can. “But you weren’t? You aren’t?”

Closing her eyes, Felicity shakes her head, feeling his hand slide over her knee beneath the blanket, anchoring itself on her thigh until she opens them again. Until he can see her again. He smiles gently, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Felicity. Or if you’ll wake up in the morning and want to pretend this whole night never happened...But I’m so glad you’re here. And I need you to know...that I have never stopped thinking about you.”

Her fingers roam over the hand on her leg, her body seeking out his touch before her brain can catch up. “Me too,” Felicity mumbles back, knowing that there isn’t a single bone in her body that will regret tonight, or any of her history with Oliver Queen. “Seeing you...it’s like everything makes sense again, you know?”

“Honey,” Oliver breathes, his head dropping until his eyes are level with hers, his nose an inch away from hers. “When I saw you on my front porch earlier,” he shakes his head, “I felt  _complete_. You’ve owned my heart for seven years, Felicity Smoak...and tonight you brought it back to me. I’ll never regret that, even if you have to take it with you again.”

And there it is. Those words. That incredibly romantic, passionate and poetic way he has that she’s so certain he only allows her to see.

Instinctively, Felicity leans into him, wanting to feel his warmth, wanting to assure both of them that they’re not over...that there’s still hope. Felicity closes her eyes, slowly rubbing her nose against his as she hears Oliver inhale.

Her lips touch his, and for a split second, neither of them move. A single moment where they both feel the weight of their hesitation. The spark.

A single, ragged breath shared before they jump.

And then they jump together.

Oliver’s hands are on her in an instant, hauling her into his lap while she dives her fingers in his hair, holding on and going willingly. And Felicity's lips devour his at the same time his devour hers. His hands grip her waist, flexing and relaxing as her hips grind against him with their own compulsion. Her tongue moves with his perfectly like she'd been kissing him all along, sending shivers down her spine.

Like everything else, Oliver understands those shivers perfectly, too. His fingers push beneath her shirt and trail up her spine, soothing them.

When it becomes too much, Felicity finally breaks the kiss, catching her breath while she lets her head fall back, knowing that Oliver’s lips won’t go anywhere. And he doesn’t disappoint, his mouth landing on her neck, dragging wet, burning kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

It’s not until his fingers reach for the buttons on the flannel covering her chest that Felicity remembers. She yelps, jolting back from him with a hurried “wait, wait, wait.”

He immediately freezes, but his fingers stay tight on her hips. And she grips his shoulders just as hard. Oliver’s eyes take a moment to open, but when they do, all she finds in them is patience. And maybe a little confusion.

Even though  _not_ kissing Oliver seems impossible, especially when she sees his swollen lips an inch from her face, just  _waiting_ for her...she remembers. And it’s enough to pull back.

“What’s wrong?” He finally whispers, sounding just as breathless as she feels. Just as affected by the kiss.

“We...we shouldn’t,” Felicity sighs lamely, knowing in her heart that she’s never wanted anything more. And the truth of it is echoed in her voice and lingering on her face. She can tell by the way Oliver blinks at her, as if he’s trying to shift gears, that her words don't match the energy hanging over them. The desire.

Needing distance, but not wanting it, Felicity pushes back, putting agonizing space between them. For a moment, Oliver’s hands move to stop her, to cup her face between his palms so he can look into her eyes. And she’s sure that if he did, he’d see her every secret. But then he drops his hands, letting her retreat.

Oliver doesn’t speak, and Felicity feels panic rising in her chest. 

For the briefest moment, she flinches as she waits for him to lash out. She holds her breath, steeling herself for the irritated grunt, the comment about her being a  _tease_ , the dismissive wave of his hand as he tells her to get the hell out.

But that isn't Oliver Queen. It never had been. And Felicity frowns at her own mind. The warped train of thought that Adrian had influenced. It was tainted. And it makes her feel sick.

“You should get to bed, you must be exhausted,” Oliver finally offers gently. But it's not a dismissal. He's giving her an out, no questions asked.

No  _‘if you don’t want sex, then get out.’_

No  _‘why the hell did you come here then?’_

No pushing.

And Felicity feels a pang of guilt for even thinking for a moment that Oliver would do anything of the sort. She sucks in a sharp breath, finally looking up at him. Her head shakes involuntarily, her eyes unable to hold back the attack of emotions as her heart finally breaks. All over again. 

But for so many different reasons this time.

And this time, the  _right_ man is there to help her with the pieces.

Not the kind of man who would hoard the pieces to himself while blaming her for the scars they left on his hands. No. This is the man who will let her put herself back together, heal herself, and be there in whatever way she needs. 

In her heart, even as damaged as it is, Felicity knows that. All she needs is to hear him say it.

“Ask me,” she chokes, fighting her own body to get the words out.

He shakes his head, blinking at his own tears. The look in his eyes is screaming at her, begging her to let him in, to just let him hold her. But Felicity lifts her chin. “Ask me,” she repeats, stronger this time.

“Ask you what, honey?”

She just stares, refusing to melt at the endearment, waiting. He’s afraid of the answer...but Oliver sighs, forcing a smile. 

“I’ve dreamed about this, Felicity. Wanted you even though I knew I would probably never have you again. The only thing stopping me from going after you was that I wanted your happiness  _more_. Even if it meant sacrificing my own. I always told myself that if I ever had the chance, if this door ever opened...I would never let you go again.” 

Her breath catches in her throat as he purses his lips, nodding to himself. And then he asks. “Why did you come here...Why tonight?”

“Because I was afraid." Felicity whispers, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. "And I ran. And finally... _finally_ , I was forced to admit to myself what I’ve always wanted. I want to be here. I want to be with you. I will _always_ want to be with you.”

His eyes soften, a sigh passing his lips that sounds a lot like a whimper. “What were you afraid of? The wedding? Felicity...” he bites his lip, “if this is just about cold feet...” She shakes her head adamantly, and Oliver’s eyebrows furrow, still trying to understand. “Talk to me,” he pleads, “I don’t want to think that you’re just running away, Felicity—”

“I’m not running away,” she interrupts, “I’m running  _to_ you.”

He pauses, his whole body going still as she reaches for the buttons of the flannel. Felicity knows that words will suffice. That anything that comes out of her mouth, this man will trust and believe. He will always be on her side, but she can’t hide from him forever.

His flannel falls off her shoulder as she nudges it, and Oliver’s eyes fall to her collarbone. Felicity hadn’t found the strength to look yet...but she knows what’s there. She'd been able to feel it the moment that it happened.

And Oliver’s eyes darken, taking in the bruises on her chest and neck that she’d felt cut through her, body and soul, when Adrian pushed her against that wall. Felicity doesn’t breathe, keeping her eyes on Oliver's face.

He reaches his hand over, pushing her hair aside so he can see it better.

“What happened?” He growls.

“Oliver—”

“Did he do this to you?” His hand ghosts over her collarbone, like he’s drawing the outline of the mark Adrian’s fingers had left.

He’d yelled, his face turning red and the vein in his forehead bulging the instant Felicity mentioned her doubts about the wedding. But it wasn’t until she’d tried to slip passed him to get to the door that he’d put his hand on her, pushing her against the wall with a harsh shove.

“Felicity,” Oliver speaks, pulling her back. His voice is low, even violent, but there’s not a single note in it that scares her. “Did he do this?” 

She nods, and Oliver's eyes darken even more, his lip twitching as he drops his hand and looks away. A small sound of disgust releases from his throat. His eyes flash with rage. Deadly and terrifying. Yet remarkably, it calms her. 

Underneath the wrath in his blue eyes, Felicity finds something warm.

Protection. A promise.

There’s a sense of relief in her bones, now that Oliver understands. Now that he knows. And it makes her feel tired, like a weight is lifted from her shoulders.

As she pulls the shirt back on, redoing the buttons, Oliver’s eyes flicker up to hers. Although the raging fire is still in them, he’s clearly trying to control it. For her.

Felicity smiles, leaning towards him to wrap her arms around his neck. And he welcomes her. She presses her lips to Oliver's while his hands bury in her hair; once, twice, and a third. 

Rubbing her nose against his, she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I’m okay.”

Then she moves, adjusting the blanket back around herself and curling up on his lap. Her hugs both arms around her, keeping a tight grip on her waist as she straddles him, dragging her nose across his neck and closing her eyes.

With the warm flames on her back and his strong arms around her, Felicity finally turns her brain off. And as he holds her, she drifts off.


	2. Put It All Back Together

All she can remember is the dread in her stomach when Oliver tried to say goodnight. Tried to be a gentleman and leave her to the privacy of his guest bedroom. Tried to squeeze her hand and wish her sweet dreams. And she'd latched on to him like the lost, hurt, and confused person that she was. A broken _‘I don’t want to be alone, please don’t leave, Oliver...’_ was out of her mouth before she’d given her brain permission to say the words.

Oliver must have heard the fear in her voice. He had to have seen it echoing in her eyes as he’d analyzed her. Even though it was _his_ house, and Felicity had never felt safer than with him, the idea of closing her eyes in an unfamiliar room and an empty bed just seemed like too much to handle.

As she began to wake up the next morning, Felicity had faint memories of his pleading eyes as he'd stared down at her in concern. The way his voice had sounded as he'd whispered her name like it was a question.

"Felicity..." _Do you want me to stay?_

“Oliver…” _Desperately._

Felicity blinks her eyes open, her mind fully waking up as she remembers how very real the previous night had been. And still, it takes her a moment to remember that she isn't in her own apartment. She's in Oliver's house. Her first love's house. The house he'd somehow turned into everything she'd ever wanted to call a home.

Despite the fact that she'd cried herself to sleep while wrapped up in Oliver's arms, the bed is cold and empty.

Her heart sinks into her stomach.

First of all, waking up alone is exactly what Felicity had wanted to avoid. And second of all, she knows that her inconsolable tears the night before were probably a lot to handle, and she worries just how thoroughly her breakdown might’ve scared Oliver off.

Adrian Chase had hurt her, and she'd needed to let all those emotions out, which apparently started with crushing sadness. That hadn’t stopped all night.

But she'd _needed_ it. A good cry. The relief. Although, when Felicity invited Oliver to spend the night in his own guest room (with her), she wasn’t expecting all that emotion to hit her like a train flying off the tracks. Not when she was blissfully on her way to dreamland with her head on Oliver’s chest, the smell of him filling her nose and bringing up good memories. Happy memories.

It wasn’t like she _planned_ for anything _else_ to happen between them in the bed last night, either. Just sleeping. A much-needed night to rest in the arms of the only man who has ever made her feel safe. So...the unexpected, ugly sobbing all over his shirt definitely wasn't on the agenda.

With her and Oliver, it had always been easy. But things are different now. The life of Felicity Smoak isn't as simple as it had once been. She still had a lot to figure out with her monster of an almost husband, her family and friends back home, and her own feelings about everything. This is _so_ not the time to be rekindling a flame with her ex-boyfriend. 

Or maybe it'd be more like setting her whole world on fire, since the torch she carried for Oliver Queen was not one she'd ever really put down.

Last night made that obvious.

The way she feels about that man had never actually gone anywhere. All she did was distract herself. And as soon as the time on her distraction had expired, as soon as it reached its boiling point and she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, Felicity dropped everything. And she ran straight for Oliver. No stops. Full force. He was the only person she wanted to see.

Groaning, Felicity rolls over on the bed, intent on getting up and taking a shower. If she's going to face Oliver again after everything that happened last night, then she at least wants to look somewhat decent. With any luck, she might be able to cleanse his mind of the snot-nosed mess she'd probably left on his clothes.

"Oh," Felicity freezes just as she’s swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, her toes landing on the cold hardwood. She shifts uncomfortably, taking in the sight of Oliver. His feet are propped up on the bed, a blanket in his lap, and he's asleep in a chair close by. She bites her lip, trying to understand why he hadn't just gone back to his own room if he didn't want to share a bed with her.

Slowly, Felicity stops in front of him, softening a bit as she enjoys the sight. He looks peaceful, his lips twitching with the smallest of smiles. His arms are crossed over his chest, his hand gripping the blanket to keep it in place, and Felicity knows it would've been much better if his hands had been on her this morning instead.

There is definitely a tiny stain on the collar of his shirt, where she'd buried her face in his neck. And Felicity feels her face grow red, realizing that it was probably her tears. _Or was that… Fracking hell, did she drool on him?_

"Oliver," Felicity breathes, keeping her voice low so she doesn't startle him. He stirs slightly, but doesn't wake. Felicity leans over him, poking a finger to his chest gently. "Oliver," she says again, just a little louder. 

His eyes snap open now, glancing from her finger up to her face. "Hey," he croaks, sucking in a deep breath and pulling his feet from the bed. He straightens up in the chair, his tired eyes roaming over her as he reaches for her hand. "You okay?"

Well, that’s a loaded question. Her gut instinct wants to plaster on the most bogus of smiles and revert to her usual answers. _Of course. I'm fine. Everything's great._

But she'd never been able to lie to Oliver Queen. Nor had she ever wanted to. And no matter how much her behavior the previous night had made her feel like a burden, she doesn’t want to start lying now. "I don't really know," Felicity whispers honestly.

With furrowed eyebrows, Oliver blinks up at her for a long time, looking into her eyes so thoroughly that it makes her squirm a little bit. His hair is a wild mess, sticking out in different directions, and he’s still trying to wake up. _God, he’s adorable._ "Do you want breakfast?" Oliver asks softly, finally giving her a shy shrug.

Felicity lets out a breath, smiling down at him as she relaxes. "You're not sick of me yet?" Her voice is teasing, but she’s genuinely asking. Genuinely worried. And Oliver can see it all over her face.

He stares at her for another long moment, like she’s a puzzle he can’t solve. _But he’s trying very, very hard._ "I don't think I'll ever be sick of you," Oliver replies, his voice drenched in the truth. Then he smiles, standing up from the chair and tossing the blanket onto the bed.

Despite the way her heart began to beat a little faster with his words, Felicity ignores it. Apparently because she lives to torture herself, Felicity raises a hand and weakly points to the stain on his shirt. Her nose scrunches up when he looks down at it before meeting her eyes again. "I was a mess last night. I shouldn't have made you endure that. I um… I wanted you to hold me, and I was just...being selfish, I guess." _Sucking up all the time I could possibly have with you before the sun came up._

The words were out before Felicity could really think about them. Before she could even hear her own voice and the way she'd been saying ‘I’m sorry’ on repeat, constantly compromising for the last two years. She is practically numb to it now. And Felicity knows that self-doubt and apologies were always met with appraisal and satisfaction from Adrian. Like her bending for his will had been exactly what he'd wanted, in his sick need for control. Still, it baffles her that she hadn't seen him for who he is sooner than this.

Oliver only stares at her with confusion on his face. "Felicity," he shakes his head. "I didn't endure anything...I was happy just to hold you. You don’t ever need to apologize for that." He shrugs, glancing away as if his words aren't melting her insides.

"You slept in the chair," she breathes back, gesturing down at it and raising her eyebrows.

Scratching the back of his neck, Oliver looks apologetic. "I know, I uh...you wanted me to come in last night, and I had no problem with doing that. Or with being there for you, but I didn’t know if you wanted me to _sleep_ here, and I just—after you fell asleep, I wasn't sure if you'd be upset if you woke up and I was in bed with you." Felicity pursed her lips, surprised at the way he'd taken on her habit of babbling. Seeing the look on her face, Oliver huffs, "I also didn't want to just _leave_ , in case you _did_ want me to be here when you woke up...so I compromised." He let out a long breath, patting the chair cushion beneath him.

"You put a lot of thought into that," she teases, biting back a grin.

Oliver sighs, relaxing along with her words. "Felicity," he looks up at her; an adorable, charming smile pulling at his lips. "Will you please stay for breakfast?"

Well, when you put it like that... "Hm," Felicity hums back, leaning a little closer. "Does this invitation involve waffles?"

His smile widens as he takes her hand again. And he winks, leading her out of the bedroom. "If that gets you to stay, then yes."

It’s a strange sense, not to feel like a stranger in Oliver's home after spending two years walking on eggshells in her own apartment. But the man is really beginning to make her feel welcome. More than welcome...like he truly wants her there with him. And Felicity can't imagine anything she needs more in that moment.

"I'm still sorry about that," Felicity reaches up to point at the stain on his shirt again.

"When have I ever shied away from those beautiful tears of yours?" His voice is just as soft as his thumb, lifting it to brush against her cheek. "How deeply you feel things...that's never scared me, Felicity. It's only ever captivated me. You never need to feel embarrassed about that."

With him, she'd known in her bones that he loved every side of her. It was never even a question or a doubt in her mind. He looked at her the same way no matter what mood she was in. He loved her the same. 

But then she'd lost him. And she'd met Adrian Chase. And somewhere along the way...she'd forgotten what it was like to be loved like that. Or maybe she'd been too young to even realize that Oliver's love was something special. Something she couldn't just imitate or replace with the next man she'd let into her life.

"I don't ever want you to hold back with me, Felicity. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to."

In truth, she'd been bottling up her emotions since before she'd even met Adrian Chase. As soon as Oliver left town, Felicity had shut down. And then she'd distracted herself. And eventually, she'd pushed all those feelings away. Moved on without dealing. Or at least she thought she had.

"Well," Felicity says weakly, lifting her shoulders. "I guess I’ve just kind of gotten used to biting my tongue.”

At that, at the reminder of Adrian, Oliver's eyes darken. Instinctively, his gaze falls down her body, stalling for a moment where he knows the bruise is. Hidden beneath the collar of her shirt, just over her bones.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite the woman you remember," she confesses, her voice just a whimper.

Oliver shakes his head slowly, stopping in the hallway and turning her gently towards him. "You're still everything I remember," he whispers. "And if I'm being honest, _you_ ...are still everything I want. Just so we’re clear, I will _never_ be okay with someone hurting you. I’ll never understand how anyone could." 

When his eyes land on hers again, they aren’t as soft, but the promise behind his gaze is palpable; Adrian isn’t getting away with this.

Not if Oliver has anything to say about it.

* * *

Being reminded again what a wonderful cook Oliver is, Felicity practically inhales the breakfast he makes. The waffles and bacon were made to perfection, but the seasoned potatoes he'd set in front of her were impossible to stop eating. And of course, as soon Felicity's plate was almost empty, Oliver pilec on another spatula full of them. 

"Oof," Felicity groans, already stabbing another bite with her fork. She presses her hand to her stomach, "I guess it's good that we spent this time apart. I would've never stopped eating if we'd been together."

She snaps her mouth shut, kicking herself and her loose lips. Felicity knows that he'd left town for good reason, and she isn’t sure if cracking jokes about it would make things awkward.

It wasn’t like they’d actually _talked_ about all of that yet. 

He sits beside her at the counter in his kitchen, his arm draped casually over her chair. When Felicity peeks up at him, she’s relieved to find him grinning back at her. “All I’m hearing right now,” he shrugs, “is that you’re challenging me to impress you with all my new cooking skills.”

She chuckles back, stretching her legs out in front of her, leaning back in her chair. Oliver doesn’t move his arm, and it feels _nice_. “Consider this girl impressed,” Felicity answers, tilting her head to look up at him.

His stare pins her to her chair; the expression somehow light and flirty yet heavy and passionate all at once.

“You know what else is impressive…” she pinches her lips together as Oliver raises an eyebrow. “This house,” Felicity finishes cheekily, making him grin.

Then he sighs, straightening his shoulders as he finally admits, “It reminds me of you.” Felicity holds her breath, waiting for him to continue. “I uh...I wasn’t over you, and when I moved here, this was kind of my therapy. Not just to work out how I felt about leaving you, but what happened to my mom, too. I guess subconsciously, I wanted this to be somewhere that I just,” Oliver sighs, “that I just thought would make you happy. I didn't plan on fixing up the house that way when I bought it. Not really, at least. I just started working on it, and about halfway through the renovations I realized that in almost every room we finished...I pictured you here."

"I don't...I don't understand, Oliver. How could you do something like this, but not pick up the phone and call?"

He hesitates, and Felicity mentally flinches, regretting the question because she’s afraid of the answer.

“I didn’t know how to be the person you fell in love with anymore, Felicity. I thought I didn’t deserve you. I thought that I would only end up hurting you again.”

She understands what he isn’t saying. Felicity instinctively places a hand on his knee, mumbling quietly, “what happened to your mom wasn’t your fault, Oliver.”

His eyes close instantly, his face twisting with the reminder, letting Felicity know that he doesn’t see it that way. 

Still.

After all this time, he _still_ blames himself.

“It wasn’t, Oliver…” Felicity scoots closer, laying her hand over his where he’s gripping the counter in front of him. “There was only one person responsible for your mother’s death, and that man is behind bars.” She speaks slowly, surprised and mesmerized by the guilt still bottled up inside of him. “Have you...talked to anyone? After you left town, I mean.”

Oliver opens his eyes again, politely moving his hand out from under hers just so he can grip his fingers together in his lap. “I did. I started seeing a therapist once I moved here, and it’s helped a lot. It still does.” He meets her eyes evenly, “but there _is_ a little bit of blame on my shoulders, Felicity. That’s just something I have to accept.”

Of course, she wants to argue. She _had_ argued. With him... _a lot_ after his mother died. Even at Moira’s funeral, they’d gotten into it. 

Fighting with him after they’d just laid his mother to rest wasn’t Felicity’s proudest moment. But in the days that followed Moira’s death, she could feel Oliver slipping away. Somewhere inside of her, she knew that their days together were numbered. Part of it was selfish...a desperate attempt to get him to talk to her, to open up, so that she could stop him from making a mistake he’d later regret. Such as breaking up with her. But a bigger part of it was simply that her heart was broken for him. He’d lost his mother in an unexpected, violent, and atrocious way. And Felicity didn’t know how to cope with that any better than he did.

Felicity had known how much pain Oliver was in, and all she’d wanted to do was fix it. But she couldn’t. 

It was no secret that Felicity Smoak and Moira Queen had never quite seen eye to eye. Ever since the day Oliver introduced her to his family, there’d been an unspoken knowledge that his mother didn’t approve. As more time went on and their relationship became more serious, the worse it got. The comments about Felicity’s style choices went from underhanded to blunt. Felicity’s invitations to Queen parties kept getting lost in the mail. Every now and then, Oliver’s gorgeous, model and actress ex-girlfriends would come out of the woodwork because for some strange reason, they’d thought he was single again.

It was cliche. And it was childish. And Felicity hated that Oliver was blind to his mother’s evil tricks. But she had never been one to back down or grin and bear it.

No matter how hard Oliver had tried to make peace between them, Moira couldn’t help but turn her nose up at Felicity, as if her six inch Prada heels allowed her to see right over Felicity’s head, and the woman never bothered looking down. 

Sure, it hurt Felicity; how thoroughly Moira disapproved. She couldn’t stand that Oliver felt stuck in the middle, that he constantly had to apologize for his mother’s actions and at the same time, assure Felicity that it didn’t matter to him what Moira thought of her.

“I don’t see how, Oliver,” Felicity finally whispers, shaking her head. “You were just trying to do something _good_ in your family’s name.”

“My deal with Slade Wilson is what got my mom killed.” He says confidently. “I was too young, too eager to get my hands in the business, and too excited to do it right. I never did a background check. Maybe if I was more careful, I would have realized that my father slept with Wilson’s wife. That the entire merger was a ruse for revenge.”

“You couldn’t have known that.” Felicity shivers, remembering the sinister plot of a madman, hellbent on retaliating against Oliver’s whole family because of what Robert Queen had done.

Oliver stares down at his hands, his head somewhere else. “Slade couldn’t kill my dad, he was already dead. So he took it out on my mom instead. I let Slade Wilson walk right into our home and do it, Felicity. That’s something I have to accept.” 

In response, Felicity reaches for him. She chose not to think about the way Slade Wilson had looked that day; in handcuffs and being dragged from the Queen mansion after he’d murdered Moira in broad daylight, under the pretense of a business meeting. The man’s expression had been so relaxed, his clothes covered in blood. The look on his face had been haunting...as if killing Moira had released all of his demons and he’d finally found the peace he needed. It was horrible, and the man was sick. And his partnership with Queen Consolidated made it easy for him to gain access to the Queen’s home...which was the root of Oliver’s guilt. 

Staring up at him now, Felicity can’t stop herself from reverting back to that time. How insecure she’d been. How unfair. Oliver had been hurting more than anyone she’d ever seen, and no matter how much she’d loved him, she felt like nothing she’d done had made him feel any better. 

“I’m sorry,” Felicity whispers, “that I couldn’t do more for you...after what happened.”

Oliver’s head tilts to the side, his eyebrows pushing together, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Felicity glances away, her heart picking up as she realizes the hole of embarrassment she’s digging for herself. “I never knew the right thing to say to you, how to help. And I know I was the last person you wanted to talk to...because of how your mom felt about me. There’s just so much...so much that I wish could’ve been different.”

“Wow,” Oliver raises his eyebrows. He shifts in his chair, leaning closer, and Felicity catches his eyes. “You _did_ help, Felicity. Just knowing you were beside me...it helped.”

“Not enough though,” she mumbles selfishly, biting her lip as soon as the words were out. But she meant it. And after the last two years without him, and all the terrible things that had happened between then and now, there was just no point in sugarcoating anything. “If it had been enough,” she says quietly, lifting her chin and refusing to look away from his gaze. “Then you would have stayed.”

Oliver’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. “Don’t...please don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “I can’t change how I acted back then. I really wish I could, honestly. I was in too much pain to see that I was only hurting myself even more when I pulled away from you. I should have told you that. And I should have let myself lean on you from the beginning.”

Nodding slowly, Felicity sucks in a deep breath, feeling like the air in the kitchen is getting too heavy. Too much. She pushes back from the counter, hoping to get some space from him as she reaches for their plates and sets her mind on cleaning up.

Oliver’s hand catches hers before she can take the dishes, their fingers gently knotting together. And then he brings her hand up to his face. Oliver’s eyes never leave hers as he slowly places her palm against his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut. 

It’s a moment of vulnerability, of intimacy, that she hasn’t felt since the night he left two years ago. “You did help, Felicity,” Oliver whispers again, turning his face into her touch even more, and she can’t help but step closer. “You meant everything to me. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I screwed it all up.”

She’s shaking her head instantly, although he can’t see it with his eyes still closed. Felicity takes another step forward, nudging between his legs. And Oliver sighs when she lifts her other hand to his head, holding his face between her hands. “Well, you didn’t screw it _all_ up,” she mumbles, watching as Oliver’s eyes slowly open, and she smiles. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

She only means to tease, but Oliver’s eyes darken slightly, his eyes falling to her lips. Then his heated hands slowly slide up her sides, over her thighs, and passed her hips. He stops at her ribs, his gaze growing hotter by the second. Felicity holds her breath, her whole body reacting to his touch.

Her thumb shifts down his cheek, catching on his bottom lip, and his eyes darken even more. But they never leave hers.

_Wow._

They’d kissed last night. Oliver Queen had kissed her with the same passion she still dreamed about some nights, and she hadn’t even had time to dwell on it yet.

Oliver’s hands pull Felicity closer, his arms wrapping around her as her chest presses against his. Her fingers dig in against the scruff on his jaw, and something stirs in her chest when she hears him hum in approval. _God, she really wants to kiss him again._ But he doesn’t lean in. He doesn’t give an inch.

“What do I need to do to get you to stay?” Oliver’s voice is low, a mix between a growl and a groan. And then he freezes, his arms tightening around her waist as if she might run. When his wide eyes meet hers again, Felicity knows that he hadn’t meant to let the words slip.

_But damn it, she’s glad they did._

Felicity smirks down at him, leaning closer until their noses brush, and she answers, “you can start by not sleeping in the chair tonight.”

Oliver releases a surprised, relieved breath. “That’s all? No other conditions? I sleep in a bed with you, and you’ll stay?” Felicity rolls her eyes, still smiling as she nods along. “Hmm,” he pretends to consider it, tracing the indent of the dimple on her cheek.

Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so hard that her dimples came out. She always thought she looked like such a dork. Oliver had always loved them, though.

“You’re easy to please,” he winks. “How about this; I’ll meet that request...if you let me make you dinner tonight.”

Felicity’s heart does a little flip. Or a big flip. Right into her stomach, actually. But it feels _nice_. 

_It’s the good kind of butterflies._

“I’d like that very much.”

* * *

 

A date.

Felicity wasn’t really sure if it was a date. He hadn’t _called_ it a date. But it felt like he meant for it to be one.

A date. With Oliver.

Her ex-boyfriend, the one that got away, the love of her life, the man she could never seem to convince her heart to let go of. _Oliver_. 

Felicity’s hands trail down the dresses on the racks, not knowing which one to buy without the help of Iris or Caitlin in her ear, encouraging her until she made a purchase. Shopping was more fun that way, anyway. And when she’s shopping for a _date_ ? With _Oliver_ …? 

 _Phew, that’s a lot._ Felicity truly doesn’t even know where to start.

About halfway through their day of doing mindlessly boring but much needed things, like watching Netflix and going for a walk, it occurred to Oliver that her car was still parked in his driveway. 

 _“Would he look for you here?”_ Oliver had asked, his voice taking on an edge that she hadn’t heard all day. When Felicity only gaped at him, her throat tightening with dread because the answer was _yes_. She knew Adrian well enough to know that if she didn’t return to Star City on her own soon...he’d eventually come looking. He wouldn’t let her go so easily. And she wouldn’t put it above him to track down Oliver’s house.

Reading her expression, Oliver had nodded gravely before offering to move her car into the garage. And that was when they realized they needed to face reality. _Not all of it at once._ Surely, Felicity isn’t ready to face Adrian. She doesn’t even want to think about what they were going to do yet, or the fact that she should reach out to her friends and family before Adrian gets to them and fills their heads with lies about where she is and what had happened the night before.

Once her car was stowed away, Oliver suggested that they take a ride downtown to pick her up some things. 

Felicity knew she needed plenty; a toothbrush, clothes, deodorant and everything else, whether this time with Oliver lasted a week or a month. She was definitely not going to walk back into the apartment she shared with Adrian unless she was certain he was out of it. More than any of that though, Felicity’s mind had jumped to this _date_ that she was quite sure Oliver intended to be a date. 

Getting the idea to shop a little, she’d asked him if she could go out alone, which had made him frown with concern, but he’d agreed. And he’d insisted she take his car. 

But Felicity has been gone for two hours, and she still has no idea what to wear tonight.

The longer Felicity shopped, the more anxious she got. Oliver was going to cook. He might be at the house now, prepping for dinner. They were staying in. It was casual. _Intimate_. So she kept her paws off anything too shiny and extravagant. But would a dress be too much for this stay-at-home date? Should she pick out pants and a nice shirt? Or would she walk back into his house to find him in sweats with TV dinners ready?

“No,” Felicity mutters under her breath, combing through the dresses again. He wouldn’t have made a point in _asking_ her to have dinner with him, if he only had sweatpants and microwaved food in mind. 

She’d already tried on a week’s worth of clothes that she actually loved; the pile sitting in her cart next to her stash of necessary products. She had even thrown in a few men’s t-shirts, ties, and boxer briefs for Oliver, simply because she thought her cart looked too much like a woman on the run and she didn’t want the cashier to notice.

All she had left to do was pick out a dress. For this date.

Felicity pulled out a green, simple number, assessing the length and crochet material. Plus, the added bonus she hadn’t even thought of; the sleeves and high neckline that would cover the bruises on her chest. 

Shrugging, Felicity moved quickly to the dressing room to try it on. And she found that she liked it more than she thought she would, twisting and turning in the mirror. It hugged her body in the right places, accentuating her legs and ass, yet modest enough that she would wear it casually. Smiling, Felicity gives herself one more once-over, pleased that she has something to wear, something she’ll feel good in.

She’s just about to pull it off, her hands working on getting the zipper down, when her phone starts to vibrate on the seat below her. Felicity instantly startles, fighting with the material for a moment as she tries to get it off. But she gives up, leaving it on as she glances down at her phone. And then she relaxes. “Hey,” Felicity rushes to answer before he gets sent to voicemail.

“Hey,” Oliver’s voice greets her, echoing the same smile she currently has plastered on her face. “Did you get lost?”

“What?” Felicity chuckles. “Oh, sorry, no. I’m okay. I’m just uh, trying some clothes on.”

“Ah,” he suddenly understands, “it always was impossible to pull you away from a good sale.”

Felicity’s mouth pops open, “don’t tease me. You never complained when it was a lingerie sale I found.”

Oliver laughs, the sound melting her right to the core. “Did you find a lingerie sale?”

Biting her lip, Felicity rolls her eyes. “No, I did not. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Mmm,” Felicity can _hear_ the smirk on his face. “I’ve never been disappointed looking a you, lingerie or not. But I will have dinner ready in about an hour if you wouldn’t mind coming home sometime soon?” Her breath catches somewhere between his compliment and _home_. “It might not taste as good if its cold.”

“What are you making?” She asks, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek as she tries to find her shirt.

“It’s a surprise,” Oliver answers quickly. And then, with his voice dropping to that comfortable, sexy tone she could still remember so well, like no time had passed at all; “what are you wearing?”

Felicity sucks in a breath, knowing that he is only kidding, but it sends her heart hammering in her chest anyway. “Oliver!” She catches sight of herself in the mirror just as he starts to laugh, and she’s taken aback for a moment. The flush of pink from her neck to her cheeks. The undeniable smile on her lips. Her mess of hair, loosened out of her usually tight ponytail. She focuses on the dress, the way it looks on her. And it’s easy to remember the way that Oliver had never been shy about appreciating her body. 

It sends a thrill through her, imagining the look on his face when he sees her. “It’s a surprise,” Felicity murmurs.

The tiny choking noise she hears from the other end is very, _very_ satisfying. “Well I hope you’ll be back soon then.”

As she watches herself, Felicity’s lips curl into a natural smile. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes,” she answers. 

_He’d said it first._

_Home_. 

But Felicity could hear him inhale as soon as the word passed her lips, releasing the breath slowly. And she had an innate feeling that he liked it. Very much.

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home, then,” Oliver answers after a long moment, as if he just wanted to say it again, too.

Felicity sighs happily, “see you soon...”

After hanging up the phone, Felicity can’t help but rush to get dressed, deciding to bring the dress home and let Oliver see it once she’s had a chance to fix her hair and put on some of the makeup she’d just bought. Then she breezes by the clerk working the dressing rooms who had definitely overheard the conversation...if the girl’s attempt to look innocent is any indication, before checking out and heading back to Oliver’s.

She pulls into the driveway and parks his car exactly where he’d left it. Oliver comes outside as she’s getting the bags, jogging down the steps to help her. “Thanks,” Felicity smiles, following him inside. 

He turns to give her a crooked smile over his shoulder, damn near taking her breath away with his messy hair and blue eyes that glint in the last drops of the day’s sunlight. “Welcome back.”

“Mmm,” Felicity moans as soon as they pass through the door, “it smells amazing in here.”

Oliver shoots her a wink over his shoulder, then he places the bags in the hallway, settling them next to the door of the guest bedroom they’d slept in. Felicity does the same, looking him up and down, pleased that he’d dressed up a little bit too. He’d chosen a pair of gray slacks and a blue button down shirt. “Oh,” Felicity bends down, searching for the bag. “I got you a few things,” she explains, already rolling her eyes at herself. “I realized that everything I was buying made me look like I was on the run, so I just wanted to, uh, _not_ make anyone think I’m a missing person or something.” Felicity shoved the bag against his chest, “so I got you these.”

He chuckles, just like he’d done on the phone, but it sounds sweeter now. “Thank you,” Oliver nods as he pulls out the set of ties she’d picked out. In the store, she hadn’t given it much thought. But now there’s something strangely possessive and unexpectedly hot about him holding the silk red tie, thinking about him wearing it and knowing she was the one who had given it to him.

It’s silly. But she enjoys the idea quite a bit. And then she remembers that she’d tossed a set of _boxers_ into her cart for him. 

Felicity squeaks, her mind shifting from imagining Oliver in the handsome ties to...underwear.

“What?” Oliver asks, taking in the expression on her face.

Felicity raises her eyebrows innocently, “hm? Nothing. I’m glad you like them. It’s just random stuff I grabbed off the shelves. No big deal. Anyway, thank you for loaning me your car.”

“Of course,” Oliver puts the ties back in the bag, thankfully not picking through the rest of it right in front of her. She might die of embarrassment if she had to see his reaction upon finding that she’d purchased him underwear. “I’ll um, I’ll have everything ready shortly.”

Nodding, Felicity reaches for her bags, “sounds great. I’ll just uh, get ready and be right out.”

There’s a bit of awkwardness. Maybe because it feels like a first date, when they’ve already been on countless, many of which ended in them naked. Or maybe because they had a lot to talk about, and tonight seems like the right time. Also, the fact that she was about to get ready in his guest bedroom and then have a date in his kitchen, and then go to bed with him too, if he keeps his promise. 

_Should she even bother with shoes for this?_

Felicity ultimately decides no shoes, but she does put a little bit of makeup on. And she embellishes the dress with a couple of gold bangle bracelets and matching earrings she’d found in one of the boutiques downtown. Lastly, Felicity takes her hair out of its ponytail, using her new curling iron to toss in some curls that look sexy-messy rather than just messy-messy.

Once she’s ready and content with her appearance, Felicity realizes that it’s time for a date with Oliver. And then she contemplates if she should take some time to unpack her things. Or call her mom. Or climb out the window. “No, don’t stall,” she mutters to herself. “Be brave.”

Swinging the door open, Felicity walks down the hallway with her chin high. And she tries to find her confidence that’s still a little shaky, as much as she hates to admit it. She can hear Oliver in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clanging and the radio playing softly.

Felicity is no stranger to butterflies in her stomach, but these ones are nervous and excited, not anxious and fearful.

“Look, you need to go,” Oliver’s voice makes Felicity hesitate, her bare feet skidding to a stop.

“No, Ollie,” a female voice answers from the kitchen, louder than his. And Felicity completely freezes. “Not until you tell me what the hell’s going on.”

“I’m cooking,” he hisses under his breath. “Now _go_.”

“You’re cooking _for_ someone, though,” the woman sneers back. “I’ll leave as soon as you tell me _who_.”

“Thea—” Oliver growls, and Felicity finally breathes. At least he’s shooing away his nosy sister...not an unexpected lover.

Tip-toeing closer, Felicity glances into the kitchen, considering just making her presence known so that Thea can sleep tonight with the answer to her current mystery. But the younger Queen has always been a bit of a gossip. Felicity knows that Thea would never alert the media or anything, but she still has plenty of friends in Star City. Friends who know Felicity. Thea could let it slip to one of them that she’d seen Felicity at Oliver’s house, and that could catch like wildfire, burning right to Adrian’s ears.

“Okay, I know you think you’re a Master Chef or something,” Thea taunts him, “but this is clearly a date. _Spill_ , big brother. Otherwise you might as well make me a plate. Because I’m not going anywhere.” 

As Felicity watches, Thea scoots herself up onto the counter, her back thankfully towards Felicity. Oliver is facing her though, and when he glances up to respond to his sister, he notices Felicity over her shoulder. He meets her eyes evenly, giving his head a slight shake that lets her know it’s okay to wait. Not to facilitate a reunion with Thea tonight.

Felicity nods back, wishing for a moment that this wasn’t all so complicated. Getting a hug from Thea Queen would’ve been really nice. With a sigh, she turns to leave, hearing Thea’s voice carry. “Seriously, Oliver. Who do you have coming over? And please don’t tell me the dragon lady weaseled her way back in here.”

Keeping herself busy and trying not to eavesdrop, Felicity closes herself back into the guest bedroom, where she gets to work on unpacking. She starts with the clothes, hanging two other summer dresses she bought up in the closet. Then she places the rest in the drawers of the dresser, filling one of them with underwear and bras, and the other with shirts and pants. She leaves all of her toiletries in a bag neatly by the bedroom door. 

By the time she’s finished and has nothing left to do but pace the room, she hears a knock. “Come in,” Felicity answers immediately.

Oliver cracks the door open and peeks inside, his expression already apologetic before he even speaks. “She’s gone,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans in the doorway. “I’m sorry about that. My sister has a really irritating habit of dropping in whenever she feels like it. I gave her a key for emergencies. But living alone, she assumes I won’t mind if she comes over uninvited.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow, “she’s never afraid that you might uh, have company?”

Oliver shrugs, glancing away as he mumbles under his breath, “not really.” 

Before they’d met, Oliver had never been the ‘boyfriend’ type, so much so that it surprised Felicity how easy it was for him to step into the role. How good he was at it. Picturing Oliver dating someone else, falling for someone else; had always been one of those things that Felicity refused to think about. 

He offers his hand, and Felicity takes it willingly. She’s caught up in her own musings, wondering whether or not he’d dated in the last two years. Of course he had. He _must_ have. Okay, but how _much_? 

Suddenly, Oliver raises her arm above their heads, prompting her to turn in a half circle, and then back. She gasps, and he stares down his nose at her with a hint of humor in his eyes. “You look gorgeous,” Oliver compliments. “This is a lovely surprise.”

Felicity swallows, smiling her appreciation because her mouth has gone dry. 

He leads her through the kitchen and into his dining room, where he’s neatly set the table, dimmed the lights, and lit a few candles around the room. “Wow,” Felicity breathes, staring at him as he drops her hand and pulls a chair out for her. “Thank you,” she says as she takes her seat.

Oliver settles in across from her, raising his eyebrows and looking pointedly at the dish waiting on the table between them. “Chicken cacciatore?” Felicity perks up, inhaling the delicious scents in the room.

“Still your favorite, I hope.”

Felicity groans, “you’re an angel. A sweet, sweet, sexy angel. Is that garlic bread?” He chuckles and nods, and Felicity licks her lips. “You made all this?” Another nod from Oliver, paired with an adorable blush. She grins at him. “It looks amazing, Oliver. Thank you.”

He glances up at her, reaching over to take her hand. “Thank you for saying yes.”

They eat in relatively comfortable silence, just as they’d done the night before and that morning. Except this time, Oliver is more at ease, the difference noticeable when he moves to get a bottle of wine he’d forgotten in the kitchen, placing a kiss to the top of her head on his way out.

He comes back and pours her a glass, then himself, before sitting back down. Settling back in, Oliver gently rests his hand on her thigh under the table, the other picking up his fork. His thumb grazes her knee, pushing just under the fabric of her dress so he can rub her skin. 

It feels good. His hands, his touch, his mouth...all of it has _always_ felt good.

Comforting and exciting at the same time. 

There was just something about him; some kind of spark between them, pieces of him that fit so easily with pieces of her. For whatever reason, Oliver Queen gave her something that no one else ever could. 

Felicity shakes her head, trying to shake the thoughts running around in there. “So,” she clears her throat. “It’s good to see that you and Thea are still so close.”

Looking sheepishly at her, Oliver swallows before answering. “She moved in with her boyfriend a few blocks away. It was basically impossible not to stay close.”

_Well, maybe if she’d thought of that strategy; following him and moving into the same neighborhood after he’d insisted on isolating himself two years ago..._

“Wait,” Felicity’s eyebrows push together. “Her boyfriend...you don’t mean _Roy Harper_ , do you?” Oliver grumbles in the positive, and her smile widens. “No way. They’re still together?” He gives her a look that says he’s not too happy about it, but Felicity had always seen through Oliver’s facade. Even if he was stubborn enough to act as the disapproving big brother, Oliver liked Roy. He always had. “He was a good kid,” Felicity grins, remembering her talks with Thea. Young love. First loves. Boys that absolutely drove them crazy. At least Thea and Roy’s story was still happily being written...

“He was stealing cars when my sister met him.”

 Felicity couldn’t help but laugh. “If Thea’s still with him, then I’m sure he’s become an even better man.” She rolls her eyes when Oliver just grunts. “Thea has always had an impressive skill for reading people. I trust her judgement,” Felicity shrugs. “In fact, I wish I could’ve borrowed some of it,” she mumbles to herself.

A silence takes over the room, and Felicity flinches, worrying that she just ruined the mood with her not-so-subtle comment. “Do you want to talk about it?” Oliver asks quietly after a long moment. “About Adrian?”

Felicity straightens her shoulders, reaching for her wine. “I finally realized what a monster he is,” she whispers, looking down as she swirls her glass. “So I left. I’m not sure there’s much more to say than that.”

“Was last night the only time...has he ever hurt you before?”

“Not...not like that. Not exactly.”

“Felicity…” She sees him leaning closer out of the corner of her eye, and she glances up to meet his gaze. “What does that mean?”

Sighing, Felicity takes a big sip of her wine. “He’s never done anything like _this_ before,” she gets out quickly, tugging at the collar of her dress where the bruise is scattered beneath. “There were just—I don’t know—other little moments that I didn’t brood over too much, not until last night happened and it all just...became so clear.”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrow, still not following what she wasn’t saying. “You can tell me,” he says gently. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Just the way he talked to me,” Felicity sighed. “Controlled me; without me even realizing that he was doing it...because he’d charm, and distract, and manipulate. And he was _good_ at it. And...there were just a couple of, um, moments with him that I keep remembering,” her face grows hot, wondering why she felt the need to tell Oliver this. “He’d get a little too rough, I mean, when we were, you know…”

Felicity takes another generous sip of her drink, not wanting to say it. Explicit details about Adrian would surely put a damper on this date and Felicity didn’t want to get into it; the string of stinging scratches she’d sometimes wake up to, how he’d occasionally bite too hard, that one time he’d tried choking her with a hand on her throat that rendered her speechless for a moment...and he’d learned with a harsh slap to his face that Felicity did not share the kink. 

It had all come crashing down on her last night as Oliver held her. And she’d suddenly seen those instances not as miscommunications, like she’d told herself they were...but as Adrian pushing the limit with her. She’d never truly enjoyed the roughness. _Not with him_ , at least. 

Maybe because deep down, she’d never felt safe. Probably because she’d never trusted him. Definitely because she’d never loved him.

_She’d never loved him._

Oliver’s hand freezes on her leg, his body stiffening as he stares at her. She can see the surprise on his face turn to realization, and then anger, drawing his own conclusions. After a moment, she’s sure that he gets the picture.

He looks like he’s ready to commit murder, but his hand never falters from the gentle hold he has on her leg. It reminds Felicity of the look on Oliver’s face this morning. The dark promise behind his eyes that made her pray Oliver Queen _never_ comes face to face with Adrian Chase. 

Because she is alarmingly certain that one of them will end up dead.


	3. A Flame in the Heart of the Night

Her heart wouldn’t shut up. Felicity felt like it was so loud that the sound of it beating against her chest encompassed the whole room. Oliver had just gone upstairs to take a shower and change his clothes. And she had no idea what to expect. He’d kissed her the night before, but his touches all day had been innocent enough. They had a date right there in his kitchen, but he didn’t take her hand and lead her up to his bedroom afterwards, like she’d been half-hoping he would. 

Since Felicity had taken a shower of her own while he cleaned up from dinner, she had nothing to do but lay in the giant guest bedroom and stare at the ceiling. Waiting for Oliver to come back. To stay with her.

She thought about calling her mom. Or texting her friends. It isn't unusual for them to go a couple of days without hearing from her, so Felicity isn’t too worried about anyone freaking out or sending search parties just yet. But she knows that she _has_ to face what happened with Adrian sooner rather than later. She needs to explain to an entire guest list why there will definitely _not_ be a wedding in three months. She needs her friends to accept her decision. She needs her mother to understand that Adrian Chase does not walk on water, as the woman sometimes seems to think.

But then there’s another part of her, a tiny voice in her head that couldn’t care less about any of it. That part of her is convincing. _Why does anything back_ there _matter, when right_ here _is exactly where you know you belong?_

“What are you going to do, Felicity?” She whispers to herself, groaning as she rolls onto her side.

_Where is this going with Oliver? How will this end with Adrian?_

_And has anyone told you that this whole situation is_ crazy?

Fleeing from home without a damn thing besides her purse. Driving straight for Central City without looking back. Coming face to face with Oliver Queen once again and finally facing the root of her broken heart that had never healed quite right. 

Felicity wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she came here. A safe haven, maybe. Comfort. Closure. Answers, perhaps? Definitely not a softhearted Oliver who welcomed her with open arms, patience, and the declaration that he still loved her. Deep down, maybe that was exactly what she'd been hoping for. But she had never let herself believe in a second chance for them. He'd left town, and that was that.

Of course, until it wasn't.

A gentle but unmistakable knock rasps against the door, and Felicity sits up in bed, her heart picking up even more speed. “Come in,” she breathes. 

The door creaks open, revealing a wet-hair, wide-eyed, and gorgeous Oliver. He stands in the doorway in a pair of gray sweatpants with a blue t-shirt that plasters to his muscles beautifully. But he hesitates, his hand on the doorknob, making Felicity wonder if he’d heard her invitation. 

“Hi,” Felicity whispers, sitting up. He hovers in the doorway, half in and half out, and Felicity picks at the comforter in her lap. She’s wearing the flannel he’d given her last night, and she notices when his eyes flicker down to it.

“Hi,” Oliver replies gingerly, finally stepping into the room and closing the door. His movements are slow, his eyes widening. “Do you still want me to stay?”

“Yes,” Felicity blurts back instantly, nodding as her fingers knot in the bedspread. “Yes, please.” _Please just get in here so my heart can calm down._ She scoots away from the middle, giving him room to lie down.

Not needing any more invitation than that, Oliver moves to the bed soundlessly, his eyes on her the entire time as he takes slow steps across the room. Felicity leans back against the pillows, pulling the blanket up to her chest. The room is warm, a comfortable breeze coming in from the window. But the closer Oliver gets, the thicker the air feels.

Felicity holds her breath as she rests her head back against the pillows, breaking the eye-contact in favor of looking up at the ceiling. She twists the comforter around her fingers, feeling the bed dip down when Oliver climbs in beside her. 

She doesn’t even have to look at him. The heat from his body radiates beside her, becoming a living thing between them. Oliver’s eyes are locked on the side of her face, like he’s just waiting for her to look at him. And Felicity wonders what he’s thinking about, but she continues her staring contest with the ceiling fan. 

_Is he worrying about something? It feels like he’s worrying. Or maybe his hands are just aching to reach for her like hers are for him._

Felicity shivers at the thought, her own fingers twitching in his direction before she stops herself. And she shivers again, still sensing Oliver’s eyes on her face.

“Are you cold?” He asks gently, into the quiet room.

Shaking her head, Felicity glances back at him. “No, I’m okay.”

It’s probably her own fault that he thinks she’s uncomfortable, given the way she’s laying stiff with her hands folded on her chest like a corpse in a casket. But Oliver doesn’t touch her. Instead, he nods in acknowledgement, pulling the covers back and joining her underneath them.

When Oliver turns his chin towards the ceiling, settling into almost the same position she’s in, Felicity tilts her head, watching him now. “Are you okay?” She asks, wondering why this moment feels so strange when she’d been a hot mess the night before, crying all over his chest while he held her...and that had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Of course…” Oliver shifts, scooting just an inch closer as he looks down at her, his eyes searching. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” she raises a shoulder and then drops it. “You don’t mind sleeping in here?”

With a passive shrug, Oliver watches her features. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

They shift back into silence.

Silence and ceiling staring. 

Until a question pops into Felicity’s head that she’d avoided thinking about all night. Something Thea said during her brief visit. And the words are out before she can remind herself to mind her own business. “Who is the dragon lady?”

Oliver raises his eyebrows in surprise, pinching his lips together. And Felicity can see that he knows exactly who she’s talking about. But he just stares at her for a moment.“The what?”

Felicity makes a face at him, one that makes it clear she sees right through his attempt at playing dumb. “When Thea was here…she said she hoped you hadn’t invited the ‘dragon lady’ over?”

Oliver’s jaw clenches, “this reporter I saw for a while,” he answers simply. And Felicity knows she won’t get much more than that unless she asks. And she's not sure she wants to ask.

It’d be crazy to think that Oliver had spent the last two years living like a recluse. Swearing off all women as he fixed up this house and waited until the day _she_ came to him. He’d known about her engagement. He’d thought she had moved on, forgotten about him, and was happily ready to start her life with another man. It would be naive to think that Oliver had been alone this whole time. That doesn’t mean she wants to know about his...experiences. At least, she doesn’t think she does.

Besides, none of it matters as long as Oliver is on the same page with her now. 

_Whatever that page is._

Looking back up at the ceiling, Felicity sighs. _If she could just have some certainty about_ one _thing in her life...that would be fantastic._

“Felicity…” Oliver turns over so he’s facing her, and Felicity tilts her head to look down at him. “What are we doing here?” His voice is so small, hesitant and afraid. She knows that part of him is still waiting for her to wake up and tell him that she'd made a mistake by running to him. She's just not sure how to convince him of what she already knows.

She'll never regret this.

“Trying to sleep,” Felicity answers cautiously, unsure whether this is the time or place to discuss a future. “Although I’m not sure how well it’s working,” she finishes under her breath.

Thankfully, his smile is warm, choosing to play along with her. And Felicity relaxes, knowing that Oliver isn’t going to get irritated with her indecisiveness, or snappy, or demanding. Instead, he gently lifts his hand from the bed, moving slowly, giving her time to stop him as he reaches for her. Of course, Felicity does no such thing.

Oliver’s fingers brush through her hair languidly, combing it back from her scalp and making Felicity shiver again. Her eyes close on instinct, a hushed whimper on her lips as she pushes closer. 

He does it again, and again. And Felicity finds herself gravitating towards him more and more. “And in the morning?” Oliver finally whispers when she’s right in his space. They face each other on the bed, and Oliver trails his hand down the slope of her spine in the _slowest_ journey.

Felicity opens her eyes, hearing the soft tone of his voice and wanting to see the same tenderness in his eyes. And she isn’t disappointed. Oliver smiles down at her, his hand coming back up to the nape of her neck, brushing his thumb over the sensitive skin at her hairline.

It isn’t until that moment that she realizes how much she’s missed someone looking at her like this. Missed _him_ looking at her like this. Touching her like this. “In the morning…” Felicity answers slowly, “I’ll make you coffee.”

Oliver’s lips pull up in a smile. “And after that?”

Felicity lifts her shoulder in a shrug, the shirt slipping from her skin. “Whatever you feel like doing.”

Nodding, Oliver seems to relax, just slightly. “So you’ll stay tomorrow then,” he mumbles, focusing on her shirt, taking his time to slip it back into place. His fingers grip the fabric, not letting go as he looks back up at her.

“If you want me to,” she answers weakly.

With another nod, Oliver leans closer.

She knows that as a house guest, it’d probably be polite if she could give him a more definitive answer about how long she intends to stay in his house. But she feels like she’s just waiting for a second shoe to drop. For the bubble she and Oliver have created these last two days to burst. 

It’s unavoidable.

The best she can do is hold on as long as possible.

As if he can read her mind, Oliver’s arms tighten around her, cocooning her in his embrace. “Oliver…” she breathes, gently pressing her forehead to his. 

His hand slides from her hair, roaming over her shoulder and down her arm. Her legs tangle in his as she pushes her chest closer. Oliver lets out a slight gasp when her bare leg hooks over his. And his hand moves slowly to her hip, fingers curling ever so slightly around her backside before continuing their journey to her thigh.

There, he stops, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern on her bare skin for a moment. Oliver’s eyes meet hers, impossibly heavy. And the moment Felicity starts to shift towards him, trying to get as close as possible, his grip tightens, heaving her leg higher, giving her more room.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already looking at her. 

Felicity can see through him, and she’s very aware of the fact that she has never known someone as deeply as she knows Oliver Queen. Understands him better than she understands herself sometimes.

She can see every emotion pooling in his eyes. The comfort of his fingers is felt _everywhere_ , from her skin right down to her soul. The look in his eyes is staggering, letting her know that he doesn’t want to be anywhere else, either. 

They don’t need words, the clarity between them is tangible. But Oliver still asks, anyway. A long, gorgeous sigh around the words. “Is this okay?”

* * *

 

Waking up in Oliver’s house the next morning is very different than the day before. This time, Felicity isn’t alone in the bed. And she knows it instantly because Oliver is wrapped around her with his face buried in her hair. She can feel his nose stroking slowly along the back of her neck, his heavy, deep breaths warming her skin as he sleeps.

And she can’t remember the last time she felt so at peace.

Instinctively, Felicity pushes back against him, burrowing into his arms so that almost every part of her back is pressed against his front. Her hands latch on to his, carefully pulling his arms tighter around herself and lifting his fingers to her mouth so she can kiss them. 

Oliver sucks in a sharp breath from behind her, leaning his head back, away from her neck. Felicity stops, sure that she’s woken him up. He groans, rolling onto his back and taking her with him. Felicity yelps as Oliver pulls her onto his chest; surprised, blissful giggles escaping her lips while she settles herself on top of him. “Sorry,” Felicity whispers, looking down at him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His eyes are sleepy and his hair is pointing in all different directions, just like the night before. Felicity bites her lip to keep from smiling, but she runs her fingers through his messy hair, enjoying the state of him without apologies.

_It’s definitely a sight that a girl could wake up to. Happily. On a regular basis._

“It’s okay,” Oliver smiles, resting his head back against the pillows. He doesn’t let go of her as she scoots her body down his, getting comfortable. Felicity nestles her head under his chin, lifting her lips to his jaw and trailing kisses along his scruffed face. 

“Good morn—” she stops with her mouth pressed against his cheek, her face growing red as she leans back to look at him. He’d been touching her last night; massaging her, gentle caresses that lulled her to sleep, his fingers slow and all-consuming. Yet he hadn’t gone any farther than that. 

Felicity wasn’t sure whether or not she would have stopped him if he tried. And she has a feeling that somehow, Oliver knew that, too.

But at the same time, she wants _him_.

 _Can’t it be that simple? Is it_ allowed _to be that simple?_

Oliver’s hands on her last night had been spellbinding. Time had stopped. Everything that worried her just disappeared with each slow glide of his index finger, up and down her spine. The way he’d soothed her, like it was all he wanted to do. As if he’d just wanted to rediscover the feeling of her, burning it into his memory. Her brain had gone completely blank. The only thing she had any sense of was his heartbeat under her ear, feeling him breathe with her, his body relaxing with hers until they’d fallen asleep.

But she isn’t sure if things are different now. The sun is up, the room is brighter, and she doesn’t know if that changes anything. 

When Oliver reaches up to cup her face, everything seems a little more clear. His smile makes her relax, his hand tilting her chin down so he can see her face. “Good morning, Felicity.” Oliver offers the words slowly, his voice a sexy, sleepy rumble.

“Good morning,” Felicity has just enough time to let out a shaky breath before he picks his head up to kiss her.

His intentions are obvious. The kiss is chaste. Oliver slants his mouth firmly to hers, just wanting to let her know that everything is okay. That it’s _totally fine_ if she wants to kiss his neck in the morning. 

But when he starts to pull back, tapping his index finger against her nose, Felicity cups his face in her hands and drags him back. 

Oliver lets out a gasp, not expecting her to pounce on him like this. She hadn’t planned on it either. But when Felicity pushes herself up to straddle him, successfully getting a better angle for... _feeling_ him, a throaty growl of approval chases its way into her mouth.

Like the night before, Oliver’s hands are all over her, but it feels different than in the dark. Before, the room had felt calm and sheltered. Now, in the sunlight, the air feels thicker, and her whole body feels like it's bursting to life.

Now, Oliver’s fingers aren’t slow and gentle. They’re hot and hungry. Gone are the soothing touches, comforting her to sleep. Now, when his palms slide up her thighs, pushing under the flannel until his fingers can grab her ass, her skin ignites at every inch of her he touches.

Felicity giggles as he reacquaints himself with her body, remembering what its like to have his eager hands all over her.

“What’s so funny?” Oliver mumbles, smiling against her lips, his hands squeezing her ass again.

Felicity shakes her head, all humor fading from the moment when he lifts his hips off the bed, rubbing against her. And she’s so wrapped up in his kiss, his mouth sucking at her bottom lip. Her entire body feels in tune with whatever frequency his is on. 

He rocks his hips to meet hers again, and Felicity moans, letting go of everything in favor of _this_ feeling. Oliver doesn’t stop, his breath heavier when he moves his mouth to her neck, and Felicity instinctively grinds against him. 

Oliver is kissing her neck, his tongue licking the sweet spot just below her jaw that he _knows_ turns her on like no other. And Felicity is well on her way to forgetting about everything. 

From the bruises on her collarbone to her own goddamn name, there’s nothing more important than the man beneath her. What he’s doing to her. How he’s making her feel.

_Adrian._

Felicity freezes at the thought, her breath catching in her throat. 

For some cruel, incredibly unfair reason, he comes to her mind. His angry, screaming face the moment he’d shoved her. The pure, paralyzing _rage_ she’d seen in his eyes and had been trying to forget ever since. 

 _Now_ is the moment her brain decides to force the memory on her.

She gasps, pulling away from Oliver’s kiss as if its burning her lips. And Felicity covers her mouth, feeling her heart clench in her chest for _all the wrong reasons._

Oliver hasn’t noticed yet, his mouth moving to her neck when she turns her head away from him, trying to catch her breath. _It’s him. It’s Oliver. It’s_ amazing _._

Yet there’s a small voice in the back of her head. _What would Adrian do? If he knew you were here right now? This will end very, very badly and you know it._ And that voice sounds more like Adrian than herself, but it still makes Felicity panic. There’s a part of her that lets Adrian seep into her mind. The dread spreads like poison in her veins, rendering her speechless.

An unexpected and unwelcome fear lodges in her chest. _You rushed with Adrian, too. And look how that turned out._

Even just the thought… “Wait,” Felicity finally chokes, her nails digging into Oliver’s shoulders despite her sudden, suffocating need for space. She can’t _breathe_. 

Sucking in a big gulp of air, she feels Oliver stiffen. He picks his head up slowly from where his lips had wandered to her ear. And he looks up at her, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern. God, he feels like a furnace, and he’s staring at her like he doesn’t understand what’s happening, and she just needs him _off_.

“Stop,” she manages, trying to catch her breath. Felicity lets go of her grip on his shoulders, immediately pushing him away, scrambling to get off of him.

“Felicity,” Oliver protests even as he releases his hold on her hips, even as she shoves him away from her with a little more force than necessary. She stumbles out of bed, adjusting her shirt back into place as she gets to her feet. And then she looks at him, her eyes wide, and Oliver stares back, his mouth hanging open slightly like he has no idea what to say.

_That’s fair. Since you’re acting insane._

“Coffee,” Felicity breathes, smoothing her hair down, tucking it behind her ears in a nervous gesture. “I promised you coffee.”

Oliver doesn’t speak, but he also doesn’t take his eyes off her, and Felicity flounders back a couple steps. She snatches her phone off the dresser before stumbling towards the door. “Okay, I’ll just—coffee—out here.”

When she makes it into the hallway, Felicity closes her eyes, silently chastising herself as she catches her breath. 

 _What was_ that _? And additionally, what is_ wrong _with you?_

She glances at the doorway, hesitating to see if Oliver will follow. 

When he doesn’t, Felicity sighs. _A little breather is probably best._

So, she lets the task distract her. 

Felicity focuses on making coffee, taking her time while she looks for everything she needs. And she tries not to think about the fact that she’d just, quite literally, _fled_ from Oliver. From a bed with Oliver. For reasons that she’s angry even exist. Knowing what she knows now; that Oliver regrets leaving, that he wanted to call, that he fixed up this house with her in the back of his mind, that he _missed_ her...she almost wishes the last two years never happened. 

With the coffee starting to pour, the scent filling the kitchen, Oliver eventually appears, and Felicity straightens her back as he rubs his fingers together, his smile wary. “I’ll make breakfast in a little bit, if that’s okay.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, nodding in response and wishing he’d walk across the room and kiss her. But she doesn’t dare do it herself, knowing it would probably just give the poor man whiplash. As Felicity looks at him, she can see his confusion and his hesitation. And she knows he’s a little hurt by the way she’d acted. She imagines how disgusted she must have looked, thoughts of Adrian ruining a perfectly wonderful makeout session. 

Of course, Oliver doesn’t know that, since she’d babbled an excuse and _ran_ from the room.

“Oliver…” Felicity begins, but she doesn’t know how to make ‘I was thinking about my psychotic ex-boyfriend while you were kissing me, and I kind of lost my mind for a second there’ sound better. So instead she cringes, her mouth gaping while she feels a nervous blush rising from her neck to her cheeks.

Knowing that she hasn’t yet found the words to explain, Oliver just smiles again. Then he points to the front door, “I’ll just be out on the porch. Let me know when the coffee’s ready?”

Felicity nods, her shoulders slumping with a heavy sigh. 

Once he leaves, she takes her time with the coffee; fixing her own cup with plenty of cream and plenty of sugar, and his with just a splash of cream.

When she’s done, Felicity carefully and slowly carries them outside. 

“I hope you still take your coffee the same way,” she mumbles as Oliver leans over to open the door for her.

Oliver takes the mug when she offers it, his fingers brushing against hers. “I do,” he nods before taking a sip. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Chewing on her lip, Felicity finally meets his eyes, just wanting the weirdness between them to disappear. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For _that_ ,” her hand flails around towards the house, and Felicity sighs. 

Slowly, Oliver sets his coffee cup on the table beside the swing. Then he reaches his hands out for her. “Come here,” he mutters, and Felicity’s stomach flutters, realizing what he wants.

Without hesitation, she closes the distance between them, walking into his open arms. Felicity takes a seat on his lap, and Oliver eases back onto the swing. His hand grazes down her thigh, stopping at her knee. Felicity shivers. “I don’t want you to think that I didn’t like what was happening in there,” she explains. “Because I did. I was enjoying it quite a bit, actually.”

Oliver nods, his thumb tracing slow circles over her knee. “Me too...but we don’t need to rush anything, Felicity. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I know,” she bites her lip, considering his words. But she _is_ ready. She knows what she wants. And she’s not letting Oliver walk away this time...although Felicity can feel it with every instinct in her body that he won’t. “You told me when I first got here that I’ve owned your heart for seven years...and that by coming back, you felt like I brought it back to you.” 

His hand tightens on her waist, holding her closer. “Honey, I—”

Felicity presses her thumb to his lips, stopping him before he backtracks. He’d never try to say that he didn’t mean those words. But she can see that he’s about to try to tone it down, dial back the big declarations of love because he probably thinks she’s scared. “You have mine too, Oliver,” Felicity assures him quietly, placing her hand over his chest. “My heart. You always have." Her next words come easily, naturally. "I love you, Oliver.”

The smile he gives her in return reminds her of the charming, irresistible boy she’d first met, and Felicity can’t help but reach out and brush her thumb over his dimple. “I love you,” he answers simply; no hesitation, no doubt, and no apologies. He’d always had a way of making her feel special, as if she’s the only person in the world who he allows to see him like this. Vulnerable, his heart in his hands, a smile crossing his lips that _still_ feels like it’s just for her.

“Hey,” Oliver says quietly, his fingers combing through her hair.

Felicity glances down at him, her coffee balanced on her thighs in front of her. He’s grinning up at her, and she leans in to kiss him. “What?” She whispers, her nose gliding across his. 

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

Her eyebrows furrow, frowning as she looks down at him. “You still have the bike?”

“How could I get rid of it? So many fond, fond memories,” Oliver smirks.

With a snort, Felicity bumps her shoulder against his chest.

In all honesty, she’d never felt more free or more alive than when she was on the back of his motorcycle, the whole world stretched out in front of them. “I loved that thing,” she whispers.

“I remember,” Oliver drags his index finger across her jaw, his eyes hot on hers.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

The first few miles are a little scary. Felicity had never been on a motorcycle before Oliver’s, and she hadn’t been on one since. She grips his shirt tightly in two clenched fists while he drives, her chin digging into his back so she can see over his shoulder. 

_Relax._

She tries to remind herself how her first ride had been. And then of course, how much she’d come to love this. In the years away from Oliver, all she could remember was how much she’d enjoyed being on the back of his bike. Not the fact that when he took turns, it sometimes felt like she might fall right off.

Felicity knows that Oliver would never let that happen. And he knows it too, chuckling gently every time she tightens her thighs around his waist or squeezes her arms around his middle. He goes a little under the speed limit at first, and at every red light, he moves his hand to rest over hers in silent assurance. 

By the time they’re out of the city though, Felicity remembers why she always loved these rides. Her deathgrip on Oliver slowly loosens, and she feels the wind in her hair, on her face, and it feels _damn good._ She closes her eyes and tips her head back. 

It’s more than just the rush of freedom and the taste of exhilaration. It’s also Oliver. The way Felicity feels when she lifts her hands above her head, air whipping between her fingers, has everything to do with _him._  This man who secures a hand on her thigh, letting her be free while making sure she’s safe. This man who always seems to hold that strong and protective presence when it comes to her, with everything, no matter what. 

He’s never questioned who she is or tried to stifle it. Never made her feel like there’s something about her that he wished was different. He has _always_ encouraged her to be herself and to speak her mind, but also challenged her to think differently and to open up her heart in a way she didn’t even know was possible.

When Oliver finally pulls into a diner on the outskirts of Central City, Felicity’s legs are stiff and they’re nearly out of gas. Still, she almost asks him to keep driving. 

But Felicity is starving. Groaning, she uses Oliver to help herself off the bike. And when she takes her helmet off, she knows her hair is a mess, huffing as she tries to fix it. Oliver just grins at her, his fingers coming up to tug on a strand of it before he gets off, too. “How bad is it?” She pouts.

He leans in, kissing her cheek as he answers, “you look perfect.”

Felicity scrunches her nose at him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the diner. “This place is adorable. Have you been here before?”

Oliver nods as he opens the door for her, “Thea loves their waffles.”

Toying with Oliver’s fingers, Felicity walks through the door. “Aw,” she smiles up at him, putting a hand over her chest. “You take your little sister here for waffles. That is _so_ cute.”

He raises an eyebrow, reading right through her tone. “Don’t tease. You’ll understand when you try them.”

His hand slips down her back as he leads her to a table by the window, settling at the base of her spine, and Felicity can’t stop the shiver that runs through her. Or the second shiver, when he removes his hand so he can sit across from her in the booth. And Felicity wants it back it instantly.

She can feel his eyes on her as she looks over the menu, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “What’s wrong?”

Oliver raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the menu in her hands. “All you need to know is _waffles._ ”

Felicity pinches her lips together, being stubborn as she looks back at the options. “An omelette sounds good.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver leans back in the booth. “Suit yourself,” he teases, tapping his fingers on the table as if he already knows she’ll regret it. When the waitress comes, Felicity refuses to give in, ordering an omelette. And bacon. Oliver grins as he orders his waffles, and Felicity kicks him playfully under the table.

By the time their food comes, she understands why he’d been so adamant. Her mouth waters at the sight of his food, and Felicity regrets her stubbornness quite quickly.

Oliver has that cocky look on his face, reading her mind. He winks from across the table, taunting her as he takes his first bite.

It’s not long until her fork is stealthily reaching for his plate.

Oliver catches her hand mid-air, raising an eyebrow at her. “Please?” Felicity pouts. 

His grip loosens, but he doesn’t release her hand. “You didn’t trust me,” he shakes his head, trying not to smile. “I _promised_ you that you’d want these waffles, but you didn’t believe me, did you?” He shakes his head again, acting as if he doesn’t plan on sharing. But Felicity knows better.

Still, she plays along. Rubbing her toe over his calf under the table, Felicity leans closer to him, keeping her voice low as she whispers, “I will always trust you, baby.”

Oliver swallows, shifting towards her without realizing. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” she coos. “How could I not trust you? I love you, Oliver. I love you _so_ much.”

Oliver’s eyes soften, finally letting go of her hand, and she drops it to his plate, stabbing a forkful of the waffles before he can change his mind. Oliver chuckles as he watches her, “did you just sweet talk me?”

Felicity winks, humming happily as she savors the food. “Maybe. But I meant it. I do trust you. And I love you. And oh my god, I love these waffles. If I let you say ‘I told you so’ can I have another bite?”

“Yes. _I told you so_ ,” he smirks, enjoying each word, and she rolls her eyes. As Oliver leans forward, Felicity feels his hands touch her knees, his fingers coasting up towards her thighs. “And honey...I love you, too.”

The words feel even better than his hands. Felicity groans, her shoulders slumping. And then she nudges his hands away, “that’s enough of that.” 

_I’m not trying to combust all over this diner right now._

Judging by the look in his eyes, she doesn’t need to voice the combustion thing for him to know why she’s pulling back. Oliver grins at her, giving her legs a final squeeze before he finally lets go. He opens his mouth to speak, but something over her shoulder catches his attention, his eyes widening and his mouth gaping.

“What?” Felicity asks, watching as a dark haired woman walks into the restaurant. Oliver stiffens in his seat the closer she gets to them, his jaw clenching. And he doesn’t answer, not taking his eyes off the woman. So Felicity does the same. Given that the diner is relatively empty, the woman notices them right away.

Her hair is in long, soft curls down her back, and she’s wearing a black skirt with a matching black jacket and a silk purple shirt underneath. 

Of course, she’s gorgeous.

The woman looks surprised at first, stalling in her high-heeled, confident walk across the floor. “Oliver?” She gapes, hesitating as if she’s not sure whether to approach their table or turn and run out of the restaurant.

“Hey,” Oliver helps, his voice a little higher as he forces a smile.

Felicity’s eyes shift between the two of them.

Well...she’s not an idiot.

“Susan,” Oliver gestures his hand out towards Felicity, “this is Felicity Smoak. Felicity...Susan Williams.”

The woman steps forward, a camera-ready smile on her face and her hand outstretched. Felicity smiles back as she shakes Susan’s hand, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too—” her smile falters slightly, her eyes widening before she can compose herself. “Sorry. Did you say...Felicity?”

Cocking her head to the side, Felicity nods, pulling her hand back. “Yes…?” She looks to Oliver for help, but he’s biting his lip, staring at her apologetically. 

Now it’s Susan’s turn to stiffen, her eyes shifting between Oliver and Felicity as if she’s trying to make sense of something. She looks more than a little surprised. And then she just looks angry. Susan tosses her hair back from her shoulder, straightening her purse as her eyes narrow on Oliver. “This is her?”

Felicity raises her eyebrows, taken aback by the woman’s brash tone. The question is demanded with unexpected assertion; this is _her?_ As if Felicity has done something personally insulting to this stranger.

Oliver doesn’t dare to answer either, tension filling his posture as he stares up at the woman with a warning written all over his face. Susan ignores it, gritting through her teeth, “can I talk to you, Oliver?”

He sighs, looking back at Felicity, and she does her best not to react, feeling Susan’s watchful eyes hovering above them. Still, Oliver doesn’t say a word, but Felicity gets a sense that he’s asking her if it's okay.

Because Felicity also gets a sense that Susan might cause a scene if she doesn’t get her way, she just shrugs. But Felicity keeps her eyes on Oliver, gesturing for him to go.

_Better you than me._

He almost seems disappointed about it, which makes her want to laugh. He looks defeated, as if he’d been hoping Felicity would say no. Resisting the urge to laugh, Felicity watches as Susan turns on her heel and stomps off towards the back of the diner. When she reaches the back door, she stops and crosses her arms, waiting while Oliver reluctantly follows. He shoots Felicity a look over his shoulder, one that makes it clear how much he does not want to have whatever conversation Susan Williams intends for him. 

Felicity just stares back at him, interested to see where _this_ goes.

It seems obvious that Susan is Thea’s “dragon lady”...judging by first impressions. And she definitely looks dressed and ready for a newscast. But the whole scene rings strange to Felicity. Oliver’s calm indifference upon seeing her doesn’t quite match Susan’s ‘woman scorned’ reaction upon finding him here with someone else. Or the fact that she’d been perfectly friendly until Oliver introduced them. 

Shamelessly, Felicity watches them. Susan Williams does most of the talking, or chastising, it appears. And Oliver visibly bites his tongue to stop himself from engaging in whatever argument she clearly wants to bait him into. At one point, when Susan really seems to be on a roll, Oliver glances over at Felicity. And Felicity doesn’t bother looking away. Instead, she picks up his fork and takes another bite of his waffles, arching an eyebrow at him in challenge.

From across the room, Oliver does his best not to laugh. He really does. But the amused expression on his face is unmistakable. 

Of course, Susan knows that the smile has nothing to do with her lecture, and she quickly throws an annoyed glare towards Felicity before she dives back in. Felicity frowns; even though she can’t make out the conversation, she can practically _hear_ the way this woman is hissing at him. Berating him.

It almost makes Felicity want to interrupt for a moment, but then Susan suddenly seems to shift gears when it becomes obvious that Oliver isn’t going to argue with her. That he doesn’t care enough to fight.

The woman steps closer to Oliver, almost desperately, staring up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes Felicity has ever seen. Susan’s fingers reach up to smooth over the collar of Oliver’s shirt, and Felicity fidgets in her seat, a rush of anger that feels possessive and jealous runs through her, because _hell no._

On the table in front of her, Felicity’s phone starts to ring, but she silences it, too caught up in waiting for Oliver’s reaction. 

Not so politely, he peels her hand off his shirt. And then he retreats a step. His message is loud and clear, and Oliver doesn’t give Felicity a single glance. His expression is hard and serious as he stares down at Susan. She says something that makes him narrow his eyes at her, and then he shakes his head sternly.

_Yikes._

Felicity’s phone buzzes again, and she focuses long enough to see that it's an unknown number. Ignoring it, she turns her attention back to Oliver. She’s never been great at lip reading, but Felicity is sure that she understands when Oliver tells Susan ‘that’s enough’ in his growly voice.

Ending the conversation with nothing more than that, Oliver moves by Susan, letting out a deep breath as he heads back towards her. Felicity lingers on Susan, seeing the woman’s face getting red as she seems to debate whether or not to let him walk away.

Thankfully, she does. 

By the time Oliver reaches the table and sits back in his seat, Susan is storming across the parking lot to her car. _Good riddance._

“Wow,” Felicity raises her eyebrows as she watches through the window. “That’s the dragon lady, huh?”

Oliver stares back at her, his expression unreadable. Felicity purses her lips, waiting him out. He knows better than to think they won’t be talking about _that._

“She was working on a story in Coast City,” Oliver finally offers. “She just stopped here on her way back into town.” With a shrug, Oliver picks up his fork again, refocusing on his waffles. 

“So...did I just witness your breakup?”

Oliver pauses at the words, his eyes searching hers. “There was no breakup. We were never actually together. Susan knows that it wasn’t a relationship, she just...she also knows that it’s over now.” He stares at her for a long moment, and then he sighs. “For good. That’s why she was angry.”

“By it...you mean sex,” Felicity helps, raising her eyebrows at Oliver.

Oliver shrugs, but Felicity can see that he’s not proud of this choice. “I was clear with her that we weren’t together. And that if she wanted something more, or something different, that I wasn’t the man to pursue. She accepted that.”

“Apparently not,” Felicity counters, “maybe you weren’t clear _enough_.” Instantly, she pinches her lips together. Oliver cringes, looking down at his plate. And Felicity sighs, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I don’t mean to make you feel bad about this. It was...awkward, that’s for sure. But I know you.” Felicity runs her thumb over his fingers, “you wouldn’t lead someone on like that. If you told her that it was just sex, then I doubt you gave her any reason to believe otherwise.”

He makes a face, a blush running up his neck. “As nice as that sentiment is, Felicity...can we please stop talking about this?”

Felicity chuckles, squeezing his hand. “Okay, okay. One more question though...why did she only seem pissed off when she realized who I am?”

At the question, Oliver cringes again. And the flush on his neck reaches his cheeks, “because its not...other women that pose a threat to her. It’s you. She knows that I’ve never gotten over you.”

Felicity raises her eyebrows, “and how does she know that?”

“Thea and Susan never really got along, whenever they’d cross paths,” Oliver answers. “Susan wrote a few articles about me, QC, and my mom’s death that were...presumptuous—”

“Ah,” Felicity interrupts, nodding as if everything makes sense. “So of course you had to ask her out to dinner to change her mind. Naturally.”

Oliver bites his lip, but doesn’t answer. _Okay, so that’s_ exactly _what happened._ “Thea hasn’t trusted her since. She may have told Susan at one point that I’d never be in love with her because I had already met the love of my life.”

Her eyes widening, Felicity points a finger to her chest, and Oliver nods, laughing gently. “Yes, you.”

“And Susan was just...okay with that?”

In response, Oliver shrugs, “I think at the time...she didn’t think I would ever, you know, that me and _you_ would ever…” he sighs, “hence the way she reacted today.”

Leaning back in her seat, Felicity watches him. “Thank you for telling me all of this.”

Oliver’s shoulders slump, his body relaxing as he realizes that she isn’t going to ask anything more of him. She doesn’t need to. “I’m sorry if it ruined a perfectly good breakfast.”

Smiling, Felicity lifts her chin towards his waffles, “I don’t think anything could ruin _those_.”

He doesn’t complain when her fork hovers over his food for a third time. Instead, he laughs, pushing it closer to her. And then he reaches for her plate, fixing each of them so that they can share all of it. Felicity smiles, watching as he cuts the omelette in half. “Always compromising, aren’t you?”

“For _you_?” His lips twitch with a smile, “happily.”

Felicity rolls her eyes, but can’t stop the grin she gives him in return. “All right, you sap…”

When they finish, Oliver heads up to the counter to pay, and Felicity checks her phone, looking at her missed calls again, thinking that it must be an automated call until she notices two texts. 

Frowning, Felicity opens them, her stomach twisting into knots with each word. 

 _‘Come home, Felicity’_ the first message reads, followed by _‘Please don’t make me chase you all the way to Central City.’_

Of course, Felicity knows that it’s Adrian.

She’d blocked his number before she was even out of Starling, but it shouldn’t surprise her that he’d find a way to reach her. Felicity wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. But after the tormenting texts, in the middle of a quaint diner, on a sunny morning, after all the warm and fuzzy feelings that Oliver brought her...it’s unnerving.

Felicity stands up from the table as soon as she notices Oliver coming back, her eyes swinging around the restaurant and then out to the parking lot. Because it suddenly feels unsafe. 

Adrian knows where she is. He knows she’s here. _And who the hell knows what else he’s figured out?_ If he knows about Oliver...that she’d gone running to him...Felicity doesn’t even want to think about what Adrian might do.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at her. “Hey, you okay?” He stops her on her path for the door, for _air._ His hand cups her cheek. “You look a little pale,” Oliver fusses. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Felicity strains, just wanting to get out of there. To get back to the safety of his house before she tells him. “Can we just go home?”

Oliver’s frown deepens, his thumb rubbing over her cheek as he looks into her eyes.

“Please?” Felicity whispers.

“Yeah,” Oliver nods, “yeah, of course.”

Leading the way, Felicity hurries out of the diner. She doesn’t stop until she’s on the motorcycle, her eyes scanning the street for Adrian. His car. Anything. 

It calms her down, slightly, when she doesn’t see him. But she also knows that that doesn’t mean much.

_He knows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to blondeeoneexox for the help with this chapter! :)


	4. Burning in the Rain

Adrian had been hoping that it wouldn’t come to this. He didn’t plan for things to happen this way. It wasn’t what he wanted. He’d really been expecting Felicity to return home when she was ready. But apparently, she’d drifted further away from him than he could have possibly imagined.

He had given her space. He’d allowed her the time to think, expecting her to forgive him. Felicity was supposed to come back on her own. It should have gone without saying; she would be his wife in a few months, for Christ’s sake. Instead, the infuriating woman had turned her phone off and disappeared for three days, forcing him to follow her all the way to Central City.

_ How the hell did she end up here? _

It had been easy enough to track down her car, since Adrian had installed a GPS in it after their sixth date, when he knew things were getting serious between them. 

Adrian had just assumed, when he saw that Felicity stopped on the outskirts of Central City, that she’d found a Bed and Breakfast to stay at for the night. He figured that she would come home the next day, once she calmed down and realized how ridiculous she’d been acting. How he wouldn’t have hurt her if she hadn’t prodded him into it.

When she didn’t return, and when his calls kept getting disconnected before he could even leave a voicemail, Adrian knew that her absurdity had reached new heights. 

They had a wedding to finish planning. And friends who were wondering where she’d disappeared to for the last three days. 

He’d checked with all of them. And unless their tiny brains were capable of deceiving him, Felicity’s friends truly didn’t know where she had gone. He’d lied to them easily enough, telling everyone that Felicity wanted to take a few days for herself; off shopping, relaxing, and getting a tan in Coast City.

Adrian had also assumed that Felicity would come to her senses sooner rather than later. But he was far too irritated with her to sit around and wait for that to happen.

So, he’d given her some time to get over it. Then he’d followed her.

And Adrian spent an hour outside of an unfamiliar house, wracking his brain as he tried to remember who she knows in Central City. Because the address he arrived at is definitely not a Bed and Breakfast.

Which is why he feels so antsy while he sits in his car, staring up at a blue house as the sun rises slowly behind it. _How_ _could_ _she_ _have_ _friends_ _in_ _Central City_ _that_ _he_ _doesn’t_ _know_? _That she’s never mentioned?_

After three hours of debating whether or not to go knock on the door, Adrian finally has his answer.

A man emerges from the front door, and Adrian sinks lower in his seat. He keeps his eyes on the figure, immediately sizing him up. The guy is probably a whole head taller than Adrian, and definitely bigger, but that fact means very little to someone who has survived off of pure rage for most of his life.

Staying low in his seat, not wanting to draw attention to himself, Adrian watches as the stranger paces along the front porch, talking to someone on the phone. 

His temper had been brewing ever since Felicity questioned whether or not they should get married. He’d exploded, but she’d fueled it. 

_ Surely, she must know that now. _

Still, the anger he feels looking at this man is an ember compared to the fire Adrian feels when he sees Felicity come out of the house.

She’s barefoot, her hair a mess as if she’s just woken up, carrying two coffee mugs in her hands. And Adrian watches her, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that they begin to ache. 

But when she moves to sit on his lap, talking to him with her hands all over him? When she  _ kisses  _ this man? 

Oh, it takes every ounce of self-control Adrian has ever possessed not to get out of the car.

After a few minutes, the two of them go inside. Together. And again, Adrian has to actively force himself to stay put.  _ Think _ , he tells himself. 

But it  _ enrages  _ him. 

_ She  _ enrages him.

Banging his hands against the steering wheel doesn’t release the energy that’s coursing through Adrian’s entire body. And he knows that storming into the house and dragging Felicity out isn’t a smart plan. Even if that’s exactly what he wants to do.

If she’d been seeing this asshole behind his back, Adrian knows he would have found out by now. The only explanation is that the night of their argument had led her here. That the guy who lives here must be someone she used to know. Which means he can fix this. He can still save their relationship. He can still show her that their marriage is for the best. He can still convince her that it’s what she wants.

About an hour later, Felicity and the stranger come back outside, dressed and ready. 

Adrian stares as his future wife takes the hand of another man, smiling like she’s forgotten all about  _ him _ . 

She looks radiant.  _ Happy _ . It’s an expression Adrian has never seen directed at him. 

_ No...Felicity apparently reserves this look for... _

Freezing in his seat, Adrian finally glances at the man with Felicity. He walks close behind her, his hand grazing the small of her back. And he’s making her smile. 

Wild anger sets a fire inside of Adrian, burning brighter than before. It’s fury that blacks his vision for a moment. But he refuses to blink, to look away.

In the driveway, Oliver gets onto a motorcycle and looks at Felicity expectantly. And he gives her a crooked smile, holding out a helmet for her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Felicity takes the offering, securing it on her head before striking a pose for Oliver that has him laughing. 

She laughs, too. 

Comfortable. Carefree. Effortless. All sides of her that are foreign to Adrian. 

Felicity kisses the man’s neck as he starts the bike. She whispers in his ear. She grins at him with a playful glint in her eyes. She runs her hands over his body before settling with a tight grip around his waist, her head resting easily on his shoulder.

The look on this stranger’s face in response to all of it is maddening, making Adrian want to punch him.

When they leave, Adrian throws his fist against the car window, spawning a frenzy of sharp cracks across the glass.

He waits until the bike is almost out of sight, his breaths heavy in the silence of his car. And then he follows them all the way to a diner outside of town. Where he watches, disgusted with Felicity and what she’s done. 

He has to do something that he knows she won’t like. That he knows will scare her. But she’s left him with no choice.

Making her  _ afraid  _ is the only way to make her  _ listen _ .

* * *

 

The whole ride home from the diner, Oliver could feel that something was changing. Felicity doesn’t hold onto him as tightly as she had before. Her fingers tremble where she grips his shirt, and the gentle lull of her head on his back feels like she’s trying to make the moment last. Like she’s trying to say goodbye. But she doesn’t speak.

It’s just a feeling. One that makes Oliver pray that he’s wrong. And one that makes him drive a little slower the whole way through the city.

Above their heads, the clouds grow darker, thick with rain. But Oliver can’t bring himself to hurry. For some reason, he can sense what will happen when they get there. He knows her, which makes him sure that he knows what she’ll say as soon as he stops this motorcycle.

Whatever is going on in her head, he can feel it in every place that her body is touching his. He can tell that she’s scared. That she’s sad. 

Maybe if he can just get her to talk to him…

Just as he reaches his neighborhood, they begin to feel the first drops of the storm. They can hear thunder rolling in the distance, even over the hum of the bike.

A loud crack of it seems to open up the sky before he makes it to the house, and suddenly the beginnings of a storm becomes a full-on downpour. 

Felicity yelps as the cold rain drenches them, hiding her face against his back. And Oliver finally feels some urgency, trying and failing to get her home before they both end up soaked.

She hops off the motorcycle as soon as he parks in the driveway, rushing towards the house without looking back. Not that it’s worth the effort, since there’s not an inch of him that isn’t wet and she looks just the same. Oliver stares after her, unable to move. He accepts whatever this is like he accepts this storm. He’s not comfortable with what’s happening, but he can’t do anything to change it. All he can do is sit there and watch it all unravel.

Felicity finally stops when she reaches the front steps, realizing that he’s not behind her. She squints at him through the rain, waving her hand in a gesture for him to follow. 

And he wants to. He’d follow her anywhere. _ God, does he want to. _

But all he can think is that if he gets off the bike, he’ll go inside, and then he’ll have to bite his tongue while she packs her things.

_ He can’t. _

So he shakes his head.

Even from a distance and with the rain, Oliver can see the way she sighs. Deflates. And then she moves back towards him. “Come on,” Felicity speaks when she’s close enough for him to hear. “Let’s get inside. We should talk.”

Oliver looks back at her, his heart sinking into his stomach because now he’s sure. Water drips from her face. Her hair. And it’s so clear what she’s thinking. “Are you leaving?” He asks quietly, his voice shaking.

There’s nothing in the world that Oliver wants less than that. But he has to know. Felicity looks a little surprised by the question, but after a moment, she bites her lip. And of course, he knows the answer before it reaches his ears. “I have to go back,” Felicity offers weakly. 

“No,” Oliver blinks through the rain, not wanting to take his eyes off her. “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” Felicity argues. 

Oliver swings his leg off the motorcycle, standing in front of her in the driveway. “Why?”

“Because,” Felicity peers up at him. “Oliver, come on. This is ridiculous! Can we please get inside?” He notes the tone of her voice. The woman he knew had never been bothered by a thunderstorm. In fact, they were one of her favorite things. And Oliver highly doubts that that had changed.  _ So, why does she look like she’s seen a ghost?  _ He doesn’t miss the way her eyes sweep across the street, rather than looking at him, her body rigid.

“What are you afraid of?” Oliver demands, sensing her anxiety. “Everything was fine at breakfast, Felicity. You...you weren’t going to leave today. We were going to figure this out together. So why are you running? What changed?” When she doesn’t answer, he presses, “did I do something wrong?” Felicity shakes her head instantly. Her bottom lip trembles, and he softens. “Then what is it, honey? Is this about Susan showing up at the diner, or…”

“No,” she throws her hands up, raising her voice to be heard over the rain. “Adrian texted me. He knows I’m in Central City.” 

Oliver freezes as she explains. 

“He wants me to go back to Starling.”

“So you’re just going to listen to him?” Oliver breathes, shaking his head. 

This isn’t about Felicity wanting to leave. It’s about Adrian Chase continuing to try to control her. What Oliver can’t wrap his head around though, is why Felicity is letting him. She narrows her eyes at him, “It’s not like that.”

“Then  _ tell  _ me,” he pleads. “What is it like, Felicity? Do you think you owe him something?”

“No,” Felicity grits her teeth.

Oliver takes a breath through his own clenched teeth, calling on his patience. Because sometimes fighting with her is a real pain in the ass. When he gets defensive and when she won’t open up. When he pushes and she pulls.

Still, he never wants to fight with anyone else.

“You need closure, then?” Oliver tries to understand. “With him, I mean. I’d understand, Felicity...feelings don’t just disappear, even if he hurt you—” 

“They  _ do _ ,” she interrupts.

Oliver sighs, aiming for something more direct. “Do you still love Adrian?”

“No!” Felicity bursts, looking up at him as if the very notion offends her. “I got closure the moment I took off that god-awful engagement ring! It felt  _ freeing _ , Oliver,” she huffs, opening her arms to the rain before dropping them back to her sides. “I knew then that I would never put that thing back on. That was my closure. There is  _ nothing  _ that I need from Adrian Chase besides the key back that he has to my apartment.”

Staring down at her, Oliver refuses to let her gaze go. He takes a step closer, feeling a weight off his chest.

“I don’t love him,” Felicity insists, making the feeling lighter. “I’m pretty sure I never did. I want you to understand that.”

Oliver softens, letting go of his anger with a long breath. “I’m trying to,” he whispers.

Felicity softens too, relaxing with his words. “I don’t want Adrian anywhere near you, Oliver,” she shakes her head, her frustration evident. “He already knows I’m here. This is my mess. I ran from it, and I refuse to drag you into it more than I already have. If I don’t go talk to him, this will only get worse.”

“I don’t care who Adrian thinks he is,” Oliver responds to her fear with calmness. “This isn’t  _ your  _ mess, Felicity. It’s  _ his _ , and you don’t have to face him alone. Or  _ at all,  _ if you don’t want to.” He nods, his eyes never leaving hers. “I love you. And I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s not about him,” Felicity answers. “I’m not willing to take a risk and find out exactly what Adrian is capable of if he knows I’m here with you.”

Oliver could read the words between the lines. And the way she’s reacting finally makes sense to him. She doesn’t need closure. She doesn’t feel like she owes Adrian a conversation, either. She doesn’t feel obligated to go back to Starling at all. 

This is about  _ him.  _ Oliver sighs as he moves closer to Felicity, finally understanding what has her so scared. “I’m not afraid of Adrian,” Oliver growls, cupping her face between his hands and tilting her head up towards him. “And you shouldn’t be, either.” His thumbs graze her cheeks, wiping the rain from her skin even though it just continues to fall on them. “He’s never going to lay a finger on you again, Felicity.” The words are a promise. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

Looking into her eyes, Oliver knows that she believes it. “Don’t go,” he mutters, his eyes begging her not to, his breath heavy as it mixes with hers and the rain. 

He doesn’t give a damn about Adrian Chase. The tiny, pathetic man who hurt her. Who still seems to think that he can intimidate her. The last thing Oliver wants is for Felicity to react to all of this out of fear. The last thing she deserves is to be afraid. 

She’s staring up at him with wide eyes, hesitation in her gaze. “It’s not that simple, Oliver…” she trails off, her resolve wavering.

“It is,” Oliver breathes back, dropping his forehead to hers. 

_ It  _ is  _ this simple. _

“You are who you are. And I am who I am. And I’m going to love you for the rest of my life, Felicity. It is that simple.” Every captivating smile on her face that had made him fall deeper and deeper until there was no taking this all back. Every argument they’d had that drove him crazy, but never once made him doubt how perfect they are for each other. The years apart. The things they’d both been through. Despite the valid fear in her eyes, despite the situation with her ex, things have never been more simple in Oliver’s eyes. “We belong together.”

Tilting her chin up, Oliver presses his lips to hers. She kisses him back immediately, her fingers gripping onto his wet shirt. He hears her whimper as she opens for him. 

“Felicity,” Oliver groans into her mouth, his hands tightening around her. “Don’t go.” 

He’s been wanting to beg her to stay since the second she blew back into his life three days ago. Since the moment Felicity Smoak showed up on his front porch in the middle of the night, Oliver has been dreading her leaving him. 

The desperation he feels rings loud and clear in his voice, even to his own ears.

Felicity doesn’t answer, but her eyebrows furrow as she looks up at him through the storm, her lips just a breath away. 

“Please,” Oliver gasps.  _ He is not above begging.  _

Finally, Felicity gives him a small nod. Her arms wind around his neck, her eyes piercing through the sheets of rain and through him. When she kisses him again, Oliver lifts her up, guiding her legs around his waist.

Her mouth is hot on his, her fingers latching onto his hair as he carries her to the house.

Pushing through the door, Oliver listens as it slams behind them, cutting off the thunderous storm and leaving them in the powerful silence of the dark house. He pauses for a moment, holding her up with one arm and brushing her hair out of her face with the other.

Felicity lets out a breathy laugh as her eyes bounce between his, her hands cupping his face. Oliver smiles back, continuing down the hallway. He’s heading for the stairs, but when Felicity starts kissing his neck, he has to stop. 

Oliver hums, spinning towards the closest wall.

He pins her against it as his body reacts to every ragged inhale of her breath. Every rise and fall of her hips, grinding into him. Every moan in his ear, getting lost in the sounds she’s making. 

Oliver growls as her tongue slides against his, her nails digging into his shoulders. 

Without warning, Felicity tears his hands off her thighs and slips down from his body, landing gracefully in front of him. Her lips break from his too, much too abruptly than he’s ready for, and Oliver gasps, instinctively chasing her until he realizes what she’s doing.

Her breath is the only thing he can hear, intense and erratic as she hurriedly grabs at his belt. 

He chokes on his next attempt at getting air in his lungs. Because her knuckles graze his wet jeans, the hard length of him just beneath. He bites his lip as he stares down at her, anchoring his hands to the wall above her head, his vision fixated on what her hands are doing. 

Felicity’s fingers yank at his belt, pulling it off and tossing it aside. And then she’s reaching for the zipper of his jeans. 

Panting, she glances up at him, her blue eyes bright and sultry as she meets his gaze. Felicity gives him a quick kiss, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip just as she pulls his zipper down and pushes her hand inside.

“Oh, Felicity,” he groans loudly, his hips jerking into her palm. 

In an instant, Felicity moans, refusing him the rapture of her lips as she looks down between their bodies. 

Oliver forces himself not to pull her mouth back to his, instead focusing on her face; the way her eyes darken as she watches what her hand is doing to him. He whimpers her name again, and he’s gifted with a brief glance from her, that sensual promise in her eyes, trained on him. 

Felicity smiles again, and Oliver knows that she can see how much this is affecting him. And she likes it. He digs his fingers into the wall behind her head; wanting to give her complete control of this, wanting to see what she’ll do next.

She seems to notice, her head cocking to the side and her hand on him  _ tightening _ . Oliver cries out, his eyes slamming shut. Pleasure bursts behind his eyelids, and a moment later, her warm hand is gone. He winces, at her mercy as his eyes flutter open again.

As soon as he looks into her eyes, Felicity grabs his jeans at the waist, hauling them down to his ankles and not batting an eye when his boxers go down with them. She dips down with the effort, giving him a rather perfect view while she helps him step out of the wet clothing. 

“Shit,” Oliver rasps through his teeth as he watches Felicity.

Her fingers grip him again, making his breath catch as she pumps her hand.

The movement is quick and agonizing, but the kisses she plants on her way back up his body are sweet and slow in comparison.

It’s a strange, vulnerable, yet completely welcome intimacy when he notes how naked he is. And how  _ not  _ naked she is. 

Oliver breathes out a laugh, thrusting shallowly as he moves his hands from the wall. He runs them down her arms, settling at her waist and giving her a quick kiss. 

_ God, she’s gorgeous. _

Her damp hair is already drying in those natural, wild curls he loves. Her makeup is ruined in soft streaks on her skin. The room provides just enough light to see her, and he suddenly wants to make the moment last forever. “Felicity,” he gasps.

She picks her head up from his chest, returning his smile with one of her own. 

Oliver’s hands slip slowly from her hips, moving down her thighs where he fists the hem of her skirt in both hands. Felicity sucks in a breath, and Oliver keeps his eyes locked on hers. 

He bends down to reach her legs, his nails scraping gently across her skin. She stares down at him while he stares up at her, inching his fingertips down her wet thighs.

Taking his time until he reaches her feet, Oliver nudges at her shoes and Felicity balances on his shoulder, lifting her foot from the ground. Oliver eases the heels off. He gently drops each of them to the hardwood, his eyes still burning on hers. Then he makes the slow journey back up her body. On his way, he catches his fingers on the damp material of her dress again, pulling it up with him. 

Felicity licks her lips, her arms raising above her head. And Oliver whisks the dress off quickly, reveling in the way it makes her shiver. 

Discarding her clothes over his shoulder, he moans as he hears the wet slap of it hitting the floor. Then he rushes to wrap his arms around her again, leaning in at the same time that she reaches for him, helping to meet him halfway. 

He picks her up easily, and Oliver smiles when she circles her legs back around his waist, her arms doing the same. He can smell the rain on her skin, feel her breath as she pushes her forehead against his, and Oliver pauses for just a moment, letting them both breathe. 

_ He wants her. Bad. _

As if in response, in agreement, Felicity’s center rubs against him, just where he needs to feel her.

Once she’s wrapped around him again, Oliver holds her tight, her body sliding against his until their lips touch. He picks up right where their last kiss had left off, carrying her through the house, up the stairs, and straight into his bedroom.

By the time they make it to the bed, Felicity’s mouth is all over him. Every inch of him that she can reach, she’s kissing and sucking and nipping at. Oliver sits down on the bed, adjusting her in his lap.

_ It feels so damn good. _

Oliver lets his hands wander over her back, exploring leisurely, his fingers heavy as they drag down to her thighs. She’s rolling her hips against his, seeking friction, and Oliver shifts his focus to her ass, taking it in both hands and pushing off the bed to meet her. “Yes,” Felicity sighs in his ear, where she’s pointedly running her tongue. “Mm, Oliver, yes.” Her kisses trail down his neck and back up to his jaw, her tiny sounds of approval filling the room. 

Felicity writhes against him, restless to be as close as she can. With a huff, she reaches around her back and unhooks her bra, whipping it off in an instant. Oliver laughs as she launches it over his head and across the room. She glances down at him, her smile wicked and her mouth red from his beard. 

“What?” She lets out a long breath, latching onto him tightly as she brings her mouth to his. He waits for her to kiss him, but instead Felicity just rests her lips over his, holding his gaze. Her hands coast down the broad plane of his back, her fingers skimming the taut muscles as he trembles under her touch. 

The air thickens between them, and he couldn’t possibly dream of looking away.

Silently, Felicity opens her mouth and traces her tongue across his bottom lip in a slow, enchanting moment that calls every part of his body and soul to her attention.

As if she didn’t have it already.

Her eyes are heavy with need, but she doesn’t break the contact of their gaze as she wets his lip. Oliver growls, fully aware of the spell she has over him. And not upset about it one bit.

He doesn’t want her to take her eyes off of him. He doesn’t  _ ever  _ want her to stop looking at him like this. He never wants to go a day without Felicity’s hands on him, just as they are now.

Even as he stares back at her, trying to breathe normally, he’s aware that he’ll never forget the way she is at this moment. Wild hair and warm skin and blue eyes that mesmerize him. 

The sounds of the storm rattle against the window, almost like the thunder and lightning want to split through the bedroom. 

Yet, there in the stillness, it’s just them. They’re safe. And nothing can touch her.

“Oliver…” Felicity whispers his name, her voice catching as if she can read his mind. 

He hopes she understands how painstakingly in love with her he is. How deep it runs.  _ Down to his soul, love of his life, nothing could ever change how he feels about her, he’d marry her tomorrow if he thought she’d say yes _ levels of deep. 

But also on the  _ physical, in this moment right here _ level, Felicity seems to sense that he’s not even willing to unravel his arms from around her. So she reaches between them and pulls her underwear to the side. And then she takes him in her hand just as she’d done downstairs. But this time she meets his eyes, latching her other arm around his shoulders. And then Felicity sinks down onto him, guiding him inside of her.

* * *

 

It’s almost too dark to see. The storm still thunders outside the window of his bedroom. 

And the carpet under Felicity’s bare back is surprisingly comfortable, especially with Oliver’s face nestled between her breasts. She’s just not quite sure how they’d wound up on the floor. With a happy sigh and a lazy smile on her face, Felicity starts to laugh.  _ Seriously, when did they move from the bed? _

Oliver lifts his head to look at her, his own eyes sparking with amusement. “What?” 

_ He’s unbelievable. And irresistible. And how on earth had she ever forgotten how good this all feels? _ Still, his groggy voice, sleepy eyes, and perfect mess of sex hair only make Felicity laugh more. 

He looks a little shy, biting his lip, and Felicity’s heart melts for him. “That was...wow,” she shakes her head, a blush running down her neck as she remembers.  _ She’s a puddle...right in his hands. _

“Well,” Oliver’s mouth turns up in a proud, satisfied smirk. He knows damn well what he’s just done to her. The reason her legs feel like jell-o and she’s still trying to catch her breath. “I’d say we did a pretty wonderful job of making up for lost time.”

“Oh, honey,” Felicity winks, “We’re just getting started.”

A flash of lightning brightens the room, reminding Felicity that she’s only seen his bedroom once in passing, the first night when he’d given her a tour of the house. 

Now, she takes a moment to glance around, noting that the space suits him. Simple and comforting. The touches are all Oliver. The books in the corner, the framed photo of his family on the dresser. Even the forgotten clothes on the floor, mere inches from the hamper he’d probably been aiming for. It’s  _ him _ . And it makes Felicity never want to leave. “I like your room, by the way,” she offers casually, raising her arms above her head to stretch.

“Oh yeah?” Oliver sighs back, sounding exhausted but very  _ pleased _ . Felicity hums, angling her body towards the ceiling, arching her back as she yawns. She doesn’t need to be looking at him to know that his eyes are on her. “I like having you in it,” he whispers, his voice distracted. 

Felicity grins as his gaze fixates on the sheet over her chest, as he watches it slip down to her ribs when she stretches. Part of her wants to sleep. But the bigger part of her doesn’t want to miss out on the moment. This balance between them that feels too good to close her eyes.  _ This bliss. _

With a groan, Oliver drops his face to her stomach, kissing a path up the slope of her flushed skin. He nips at the spot just below her nipple before swirling his tongue around it and drawing a choked, raw moan from her lips. Oliver pulls back again, sighing and blowing an unintentional gust of air across her wet and sensitive flesh. 

Goosebumps scatter over her skin, a shiver wracking her fame. And Oliver covers her body with his own, warming her. “Maybe we should, uh...” he pinches his lips together as he settles on top of her, resting between her legs. “Maybe we should bring some of your stuff up here.”

Felicity quirks a playful eyebrow at him. “No more guest bedroom? That’s a big step...you really think you’re ready for this every night?”

He slowly meets her gaze, his expression telling her nothing other than how content he is. “If by this, you mean  _ this _ ,” Oliver drives his hips forward, sending an unexpected jolt between her legs as he rubs against her sensitive sex. “Then yes. But if you mean your snoring...then I suppose I’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Oh,” Felicity laughs in surprise. “You have jokes now, huh?”

Grinning, Oliver drops a kiss to her mouth; in apology, Felicity assumes.  _ Since there’s no way she snores. _ “Honestly,” Oliver’s voice is just a whisper as he meets her eyes through the dark room. “Downstairs in the guest bedroom, up here, Central City, Starling… It doesn’t matter to me, Felicity. We can go anywhere. Wherever you want to be, I want to be there too. If that’s okay.” 

She knows he’s thinking about their disagreement earlier. About her going back to Star City on her own. It was never her intention to leave Oliver high and dry, but on the way back from the diner, she’d really started to convince herself that the only way to handle Adrian is by herself. That it’s  _ her  _ mess to clean up. And that she has to keep Oliver as far away from it as possible.

Of course, Oliver had gotten through to her, pointing out that it’s not her mess. It’s Adrian’s. And she doesn’t have to do a damn thing that he tells her to.

Now that the shock has worn off, Felicity can see that Oliver was right. The fear she’d felt upon receiving the texts from Adrian has thawed, and she knows that it’s neither rational nor smart to go waltzing into her apartment alone, especially with the terrorizing way Adrian had summoned her return. 

_ Don’t make me chase you. _

“I don’t know…” she whispers, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m not sure you made yourself clear enough earlier? I might need you to take me back outside and tell me that you love me again.”

His smile ticks up a notch, his eyes sparking with the purest happiness Felicity’s ever known. Running his fingers through her tangled, rain-dried hair, he shakes his head. “I think I can make all the same points from right here; I love you.”

“Yeah,” she answers contentedly as he kisses her, “but that whole kissing in the rain thing was pretty hot. Cliche and maybe a little dramatic...but  _ so good _ .”

Oliver chuckles, tugging the blanket tighter around them. “You won’t be saying that when you have a cold.” He stops to look down at her, his eyes searching. “So...what do you think?”

“I think...” Felicity hesitates, smoothing her hands up and down Oliver’s back and watching him relax under her touch. “I think that right here is exactly where I’d like to be. As long as you and I are together. As long as there’s a bed, and as long as I get to share it with you, I’ll be happy.”

Oliver nods, running his hands through her hair. “I think those are some very reasonable conditions,” he agrees. “Although...I also think we just proved that we don’t really need a bed.”

Felicity laughs, her head tipping back as she pulls him closer. “I was going to ask you about that,” she murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair and drawing his mouth to hers. “When did we get on the floor?”

Oliver smiles against her lips. “You don’t remember?”

“Mm, no.”

He hums, and then pushes to his knees, gently nudging her legs wider. “Let me refresh your memory.”

* * *

 

He knows she’s in there. 

It was  _ hours  _ ago that he saw them through the window. Just a flash of the woman who had once said she loved him; being carried up the stairs by another man.

Adrian hasn’t seen them since, but he has plenty of disgusting ideas about what’s happening in that house.

 Apparently his texts hadn’t done the trick. Felicity should be on her way back to Star City right now. Not…doing what Adrian can only assume she’s doing...if his brief glimpse of them is any indication.

It makes him sick. It makes him angrier than he’s ever been in his life. Because Felicity is  _ his _ . She doesn’t just get to run off in the middle of the night and leave him like she did. _ That’s not how this works. _

Adrian shifts in his seat, growing restless. 

In his eyes, Felicity has always been smart, and beautiful, and elegant. He wouldn’t be with a woman who was anything less. And even knowing what she’s doing behind those curtains, Adrian doesn’t want to give up on the idea of them. He had put all of his cards on Felicity Smoak.

He’s not about to let her throw it all away. Going back to Star City and facing the press alone is  _ not  _ an option. As the District Attorney, Adrian has a reputation to uphold. He’s not about to let her embarrass him.

Picking his phone up from the passenger seat again, Adrian checks for the hundredth time if Felicity has texted him back. Every time he has to, he’s less and less surprised when he sees that she isn’t answering. But he does grow more and more pissed off each time.

Ultimately, Adrian knows he’ll have to apologize. Play nice with Felicity, let her know how sorry he is, and coax her back home. But after all of this is over...she’s going to have to pay for the trouble she’s caused these last few days. He can’t allow her to start their marriage thinking that she can behave this way.  _ She can’t pull things like this without serious consequences. _

For the first time since he arrived in Central City, Adrian relaxes a little. If there’s any silver lining here, it’s that he can make damn sure Felicity never does something like this again. At least she’ll have it out of her system before the wedding. Once they’re back on track, there won’t be any affair scandals in their future. No lovers that she sneaks off to see; the douchebag she’s with now or otherwise. 

“So enjoy it now,” Adrian grumbles to himself, looking back up at the house. He can’t be sure which window Felicity is behind, so he keeps an eye on each of them, waiting for movement. 

She’ll have to leave the house eventually. Getting her alone will be the key. He just needs to talk to her, away from her stupid fling. Then he’ll be able to knock some sense into her.

As he stares at the house, Adrian finally catches sight of someone inside. He recognizes the man from earlier. The insipid biker type who, without a doubt, is sleeping with his fianc é . 

And the man is standing right in the doorway of the house with his eyes on the car. Adrian’s heart stops, his breath catching in his lungs, because Felicity’s lover is looking directly at him.

* * *

 

Staring down at Felicity’s form, Oliver only  _ somewhat  _ regrets spending most of the day in bed with her. Only in the sense that they haven’t eaten since breakfast, and he’s starving. And his muscles are sore and he needs a shower.

Felicity is exhausted, too. But she’s trying not to show it. Reluctantly, he starts to free himself from the sheets. 

“Where are you going?” Felicity groans in disfavor when he slowly untangles his limbs from hers.

Oliver kisses her head; once, twice, and a third time for good measure. “To order dinner. I’m thinking delivery?”

“Mm,” Felicity raises her eyebrows, but her lids stay shut. Too tired to even look at him. “Nap first. Then dinner. Then more sex.”

Oliver shakes his head, drawing a trail of kisses across her shoulder. He’s spent, and completely satiated, yet the idea of having  _ her  _ again is already enticing. “You trying to kill me here?”

Felicity’s eyebrows furrow, her lips turning in a pout. “No, I just think we must be on our way to breaking some kind of sex marathon record, and I wouldn’t want to quit while we’re ahead. What time is it, anyway?”

Turning towards him, Felicity smiles and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Almost 6:00,” he answers. “As nice as that sounds,” Oliver’s eyes close on instinct, feeling her mouth travel to his, where she pulls his bottom lip between her teeth. Oliver shudders, letting out an unsteady breath. “We should probably schedule some time between all that marathoning to talk tonight?” Felicity freezes, her body stiffening beneath him. And Oliver relaxes further against her in contrast. “I know that you have a lot to deal with back home, Felicity.” He whispers. “But whenever you’re ready, not when Adrian decides...whenever  _ you’re  _ ready, I’d like to go back with you.”

He can see the wheels turning in her head, but now he understands that her hesitance has nothing to do with whether or not she wants to be with him. Now he can see that she’s only trying to protect him. “Well,” Felicity sighs. “If we’re going to talk about you coming with me to confront my horrible ex-fianc é and our toxic relationship...I’m definitely going to need pizza for that conversation.” Felicity bites her lip, and Oliver watches, trying to read her. “And probably some wine?”

It’s clear that she doesn’t want him to come face to face with Adrian. Most of the reasons for that seem obvious. Understandable. But he doesn’t quite agree. Not when the other option is for her to go back alone, where  _ she’ll  _ face to face with Adrian. 

_ So it’s still worth talking about, isn’t it? _

“I’ll go call...and grab a bottle.”

* * *

 

Felicity is perfectly content to have their little talk in this bed. She feels like it’ll be easier that way. It’s safe here. She  _ likes  _ it here.

Arguing with Oliver has never been enjoyable, but they always seem to end up on the same page. Eventually, they come to understand each other. See where the other is coming from. And what happens after  _ that... _ is always enjoyable.

Regardless, both of them have been putting the conversation off ever since she got here.  _ What happens next? Where does this go? _

Part of Felicity still feels like officially ending things with Adrian is something she has to do  _ before  _ she dives back into things with Oliver.  _ Not that she’s not already in over her head with him.  _

Of course for her, it’s over with Adrian. But there’s still plenty of fallout to deal with in Star City. Friends, and her mother, and the wedding, and the monster himself...who apparently can’t take a hint.  _ Is it really a good idea to bring Oliver into it? _ And more than that... _ does she really want the love of her life to have a front row seat to watch her close the door on the biggest mistake of her life? _

Knowing Adrian, she’s sure that it won’t be pretty.

On top of everything else, and as much as she hates to admit it, Felicity is  _ embarrassed _ . Adrian’s actions were his own. The way that he treated her wasn’t her fault and she has that clarity. And the power to walk away. But deep down, Felicity can’t help but wonder what Oliver would think of her if he knew the depth of what she’s been through. The things she allowed Adrian to say and do, the things she let slide, the way she grew numb to all of it.  _ Would he even see her the same way? _

It’s a lot to unpack. A lot to talk about and not a lot of time to do it. And they haven’t even mentioned the fact that Oliver hasn’t stepped foot in Starling since it became Star City. Since his mother died. Felicity is certain that he never planned to...yet she knows he would. For her, he would.

Rolling over in bed, Felicity stretches and reaches for her phone. Her stomach growls, reminding her that Oliver’s search for the number of a delivery place is taking too long. She sighs, squinting in the darkness to see her screen, the rest of the world that’d been forgotten for the better part of their day.

And her heart sinks as her eyes adjust enough to read it.

Twenty-five messages from the same unknown number Adrian had used that morning. 

It feels like there’s cement in her chest as she scrolls through the rapid and desperate texts; from a begging ‘ _ please come home’ _ to a demanding ‘g _ et your ass back here right now, Felicity’ _ to an eerie ‘ _ you asked for this.’ _

His attempts to reach her range from sad to unhinged. But that was the last message.

_ You asked for this. _

Then nothing.

With her heart so heavy that she feels like she might throw up, Felicity sits up in the bed. “Oliver?” She calls out, dread and panic taking over as she realizes that he should’ve been back by now.

Felicity scrambles out of bed, grabbing her leggings and his shirt from the floor, the first things her hands touch. Then she rushes out of the room, almost tripping down the stairs, wrestling with the clothes in her rush. 

She should’ve expected this. She  _ did _ expect this, the moment she realized that Adrian knows where she is. But she’d just...been distracted. And now Adrian is losing his damn mind. He’s  _ livid _ .

And unpredictable.

“Oliver!” Felicity yells again, turning for the kitchen where she notices he’s turned the lights on.

When she walks into the room, she finds it empty. “Oliver?” Her voice is just a whisper now, her head tilting towards the hallway behind her. With her heart in her throat, Felicity moves back towards the stairs, mumbling his name again under her breath as she tries to shake the bad feeling that builds inside of her. 

The front door slamming makes Felicity jump. 

And she hurries towards it, still trying to catch her breath. She fleetingly tells herself to relax as she runs down the hallway, but she’s way past that point. “Hey!” Felicity gasps, catching sight of Oliver on the porch. He’s close enough to hear her, but the look on his face is so determined, her voice doesn’t even register.

By the time Felicity reaches the door, Oliver is halfway across the lawn. Her gaze lands on what has his attention, and she immediately chokes on a startled sob. 

She recognizes Adrian’s car as soon as she sees it. 

Her feet suddenly feel frozen. Weighed down like two cement blocks to match the one sitting in her stomach.

He hasn’t noticed her in the doorway, his focus completely on Oliver. 

“Wait,” Felicity whimpers, even though she knows Oliver can’t hear her anymore. But she feels like she’s watching a nightmare play out. And despite the voice in the back of her mind, screaming at her to stop this, all she can do is watch the scene like its in slow motion.

Oliver is storming towards Adrian’s car, wearing nothing but sweatpants yet looking deadly, like he’s out to kill. 

Adrian must be thinking the same thing, because he’s fidgeting in driver’s seat as Oliver approaches. 

Felicity doesn’t realize what Adrian is doing until Oliver freezes on his warpath to the car, his bare feet halting on the pavement, something holding him like glue in the middle of the street.

Looking back at her ex, Felicity stares in horror as her worst fears spill into reality. 

Slowly, Adrian raises a gun, pointing it out the window and right at Oliver’s chest.

* * *

 

His heart jumps into his throat as soon as he sees the weapon in Adrian Chase’s shaking hand. Whether he’s trembling with rage or with fear, Oliver isn’t sure. All he knows is that he’d made a mistake.

He slowly lifts his hands in front of him, staring at the gun but thinking of Felicity, praying that she’s blissfully unaware, asleep in his bed. 

“Okay,” Oliver stands perfectly still. He’d been dead-set on beating the shit out of this man. As soon as he’d noticed the car parked in front of the house and the man inside who wouldn’t stop staring up at his home, Oliver had known that this is Adrian. And all the anger he felt, knowing what he had done to Felicity, came crashing to the surface. 

Oliver saw red. He didn’t think. He wanted to confront Adrian and he didn’t care what that looked like.

Of course, until it looked like an unstable man with his finger on a trigger. 

“Just calm down,” Oliver tries to reason, although he isn’t sure how much sense he can talk into the guy considering he’d just been fully intent on kicking his ass. There’s also the fact that Adrian has seemingly been sitting outside his house all day, and the crazy look in his eyes suggests that he probably has a pretty good idea about how he and Felicity had spent the day.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Adrian drones, his eyes flickering to something behind him, in the house. And Oliver’s back stiffens because he feels her before he sees her.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Felicity’s voice echoes in his ears, inspiring his heart to leap into his throat. Terrified, Oliver spares a look over his shoulder, finally taking his eyes off Adrian and the gun. 

Felicity’s wheeling towards them, her eyes wide with panic. “Adrian please,” she begs, not daring to even turn her head in Oliver’s direction. As she moves closer, he notices the tears in her eyes, yet she’s rushing towards them as if she doesn’t see the gun.

For one quick second, Oliver worries that she somehow doesn’t. Maybe she’d only seen Oliver standing in the street and recognized Adrian’s car. Maybe she was too shocked to notice the weapon in her ex’s hand. 

When Felicity still doesn’t stop, pleading with Adrian incoherently as she continues right in the line of the gun, Oliver reacts. 

He extends his arm, halting Felicity with a hand around her waist, making the split decision that he’d rather take his chances than let her get any closer.

Adrian reacts accordingly, waving the gun as his eyes grow dark, black as the storm that’s dying around them. “Don’t!” He shouts, straightening his arm, his new burst of rage allowing his hands to stop shaking, apparently. “Don’t you dare put your hands on her right in front of me.”

Luckily, Felicity’s survival instincts are a bit keener than his. Punching this asshole in the face is the only thing Oliver can think about. He has no idea how this could end well when Adrian has a gun and his anger fueling his actions. He has to do something.

It’s  _ Felicity _ .

Oliver swallows the lump in his throat, his fear. Yet he can’t bring himself to move his arm, to leave the woman he loves more than anything vulnerable to someone who harbors this much resentment. Someone who has been violent with her before. 

_ He can’t. _

“I said,” Adrian warns lowly, his lip curling. “Don’t touch my fianc é.”

The desire to knock Adrian Chase out only intensifies. Yet Oliver has never felt so helpless. He can see the threat in the man’s eyes. That the gun in his hand isn’t just a prop to intimidate them. And with everything Oliver knows about him...he doesn’t doubt that he’ll use it.

It’s still Felicity who has to push Oliver’s arm away. And then she walks closer to the car. To Adrian. “What do you need?” She asks, keeping her voice as calm as she can. “You came all the way here for me, didn’t you? Well, I’m listening.” Oliver doesn’t blink as he stares at them, watching while Adrian deflates, wavering with Felicity’s every word. Every step she takes in his direction, and away from Oliver.

Adrian clears his throat, attempting to gain back some of the careful composure he’s painted on like a mask for years, enough to function as Starling’s DA and enough to con Felicity into putting a ring on her finger...which he seems to notice, in that moment, that Felicity had taken off. His eyes grow colder as he looks at her bare hand. “Where’s your ring?”

Squirming, Felicity raises her chin, refusing to look away. “In my car. I was angry at you.”

He grits his teeth, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but Adrian quickly stomps it out. “I want to apologize,” he whispers. “What happened the other night...I didn’t mean it.”

Felicity nods as if she accepts that. As if he’s already forgiven. “It’s okay,” she tells him soothingly. 

Oliver bites his tongue, literally, to keep from escalating this. Because underneath the adrenaline, he knows that Felicity is trying to do the opposite. But it still tears his heart wide open to hear her saying this. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Then what the hell are you  _ doing _ ?” Adrian growls, his eyes roaming over her in disgust. His composure falters. He leers at Felicity as she crosses her arms, just a few feet away from his open window. And the gun that Adrian still has resting against the doorframe. 

The only thing holding Oliver together is that at least Adrian doesn’t turn the gun on Felicity. He keeps it propped against the car door and trained on Oliver. But Felicity has his attention.

“I needed some space,” Felicity offers, shifting on her feet. As she does, she blocks Oliver’s view of Adrian. And he catches on quickly, using the distraction to take baby steps closer.

“Space is one thing, Felicity,” Adrian chastises. “Leaving town and shacking up with some idiot is something else. Come on...” he shakes his head at her. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought you were classier than this. I didn’t think I proposed to a slut.”

Even from behind her, Oliver hears Felicity suck in a sharp breath. He holds his own, his tongue, and every hotheaded threat he wants to scream at Adrian Chase.

“You’re right,” Felicity agrees. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was just confused and upset.” It’s almost convincing enough to  _ him _ , so Oliver just hopes that its enough to deescalate Adrian.

Oliver takes another inconspicuous step while Adrian seems to contemplate his next move.

After a moment, he raises the gun again, refocusing it as he tilts his head around Felicity to see Oliver. And then Adrian smiles, “if you try to contact her, now or ever again, you’ll pay for it.” 

Careful not to let his reaction show, Oliver just stares back at the man. He keeps his feet on the pavement despite every bone in his body that’s itching to jump. To  _ attack _ . 

Adrian turns his attention back to Felicity, staring up at her with cold eyes. “Get in the car,” he commands. 

_ There’s no way that will happen. _

Dread sinks into his stomach. If Felicity gets in that car, Oliver can’t be certain that she’ll come out of it alive. Not with someone this deranged and this far from reality.

Even though Felicity had been going along with Adrian, appeasing him, this demand makes her hesitate, too, like she’s thinking the same thing as Oliver.

“Felicity,” Adrian raises his eyebrows at her. “After all of the trouble you caused...please don’t make me say it again. My patience can only go so far.”

She nods, moving slowly to round the car, heading for the passenger seat. 

_ There’s no way this is happening. _

The moment Adrian’s eyes switch to Felicity, to look at her as she walks in front of his car, Oliver moves. The anxious, desperate knot in his stomach pushes him forward.

And he knows it’s treacherous; reaching for the gun.

He knows it’s a risky measure to take; but what else is he supposed to do?

He knows that he loves her and that he’d made her a promise; Adrian Chase would never lay a finger on her again.

_ Don’t go... _

A resonant shot rings out through the quiet neighborhood. The storm had resolved itself to harmless drops of rain hours ago, but the sound echoes louder than thunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there will be an epilogue! I was going to post this chapter and the epilogue together...but then I felt like I'd be depriving myself of your reactions to this?  
> So uhhhh yeah, well...?


	5. Epilogue: Feeling Your Heartbeat

Felicity’s phone vibrates for the third time that morning. And for the third time, she ignores it, sparing a glance at the screen and then turning it over on the counter.

It’s not that she doesn’t _want_ to talk to her mom. She’s not avoiding her, not _exactly_...it’s just that she’s busy. And it’s too early in the morning to argue. And their last conversation is still a fresh wound in Felicity’s mind.

_Fine, so maybe she doesn’t want to talk to her mom._

When her phone starts to vibrate again, Felicity huffs in annoyance. _Can’t say that Donna Smoak isn’t persistent._ This time, she carries her phone into the dining room, abandoning it on the table where she knows the incessant buzzing won’t drive her crazy.

On her way back through, Felicity can feel his eyes on her, tracking her across the room. “Your mom?”

She hums, not saying anything more. He already knows just how she feels about her mother’s never-ending phone calls for the past two weeks.

Felicity picks up her knife, getting back to the fruit she’d been cutting. No different than the last fourteen days though, she can’t help but steal glances at Oliver. He still isn’t quite comfortable with the sling that his arm is in. Or asking for help. “Do you want me to do that?” Felicity asks, nodding to the pancakes cooking in front of him.

Oliver shakes his head, pointing the spatula at her. “I’ve got this,” he answers with a smile. Felicity gives him one in return, but she knows her smiles fall a little flat these days. And that Oliver notices. 

It hasn’t gotten any easier to look at him injured like this, and she doubts that it will.

How could she _not_ feel guilty? 

Her ex-fiancé had _shot_ him.

Sensing where her head is at, probably reading it all over her face, Oliver turns off the griddle. He abandons the pancakes, crossing the kitchen to come up behind her. Then he wraps his left arm around her waist, leaving the other squished awkwardly between them. And her hands are gentle as she sets the knife aside and leans into him.

“Stop it,” he whispers softly outside her ear. 

Felicity sighs, her eyes slipping shut.

“I can’t,” she mutters back. Because she knows what he means; stop brooding, stop blaming yourself, stop dwelling. 

But she can’t.

Oliver turns her around, putting them face to face and keeping her caged between his body and the counter. “We both did what we had to do that day,” his voice is calm. Without a doubt, he’s had to have this talk with her every day since Adrian’s gun went off, yet Oliver continues to have the patience of a saint.

“I know,” Felicity responds, bringing her hand to his cheek. They did what they had to do, but that doesn’t make the fallout any easier to handle. Oliver’s eyes soften as he looks down at her, love reflecting in his warm blue gaze, making her heart do that stupid little flutter. The way he relaxes under her touch only leaves Felicity wanting him more. Now _that_ makes the fallout a little easier to handle.

So she glides her hand over the shape of his jaw, remembering how terrifying it feels to think she’s lost him for good. It’s not something Felicity ever wants to experience again. 

As she scrapes her nails through his beard, Oliver’s eyes slip shut. Down the length of his neck, and his forehead dips to touch hers. Felicity slowly walks her fingers back up, carding her fingers through his hair.

And Oliver sucks in a breath, his hand on her hip tightening. Then he kisses her, his mouth tender and unhurried.

The way his lips settle over hers has been taking her breath away for days now. And this kiss does nothing short of that. He _savors_ her, like he’s stopping the world just to do it. Being kissed like this means that Felicity is powerless to pull away. In fact, she’s pretty sure she’d do anything to make sure he doesn’t stop. 

But the reason he holds her this close isn’t lost on her.

It flickers through her mind every time he’s kissed her since he woke up in that hospital bed. The image of his eyes blinking open, finding her at his side. The smile that followed, and the first words he’d said as soon as he saw her, _‘thought I lost you.’_

Felicity understood that Oliver’s grip on her, how he kisses her, the way he holds her at night, all has to do with that fear.

And she responds to his uneasiness with desperation of her own; as if she needs to prove to him that she’s not going anywhere, kiss him harder until he believes it.

Oliver sighs as Felicity pulls herself closer, diving her fingers into his hair. He gasps her name, both of them ignoring breakfast as he rubs himself against her, pinning her to the counter. 

Knowing what he’s looking for, Felicity helps, letting go of him so that she can wiggle her way onto the surface, welcoming him between her legs. She opens her eyes to see him watching her, a small grin on his face and his mouth tainted pink with the color of her lip gloss. “Oh god,” she mutters under her breath, taking his face in her hands again and pulling him back.

The whole _you could have died_ thing is still a fresh scar in both of their minds. It was still impossible to think about anything else whenever Oliver touched her like this. _What_ _if_?

As usual, Oliver seems to agree. He wraps his arm back around her, his hand landing on her ass before he draws her to the edge of the counter. 

Felicity matches his need, wrapping her legs around his waist. In their haste to be closer, they both forget about his wound. Oliver’s slinged arm reaches for her waist, and Felicity’s hand incautiously grips his shoulder, right over his bandage. Where he’d intended to pick her up, he hisses in pain instead. And Felicity instantly recoils, yanking her hand away. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she winces in sympathy, unknowingly making the same pained expression on Oliver’s face.

He stays still for a moment, and Felicity does the same, letting the discomfort pass. Finally, Oliver sighs, pressing his forehead harder against hers. But when she tries to unhook her legs from his hips, he holds tighter. “No, no. Just wait a second.”

“Oliver,” she whispers. “You’re supposed to be healing. ” Felicity opens her eyes to look at him, watching his face as he catches his breath, unwilling to move an inch.

“I am healing,” he answers.

She cocks her head to the side, remembering the doctor’s advice against putting any kind of strain on his arm. “Yes, but kitchen sex isn’t going to make that happen any faster.”

Oliver meets her eyes, and Felicity smiles, her thumbs smoothing over his mouth, wiping off her shade of pink from his bottom lip. His eyes darken as he stares down at her, “I didn’t hear any complaints from you last night.”

Felicity pinches her lips together, amused. “Last night involved a bed…” She leans forward, touching her nose to his and dropping her voice, “besides, if you remember...I didn’t let you do very much of the work.”

“Mm,” he hums under his breath, “won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.” Oliver’s hand slowly curls back around her, his fingers dipping into the waist of her jeans. “I also wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

Felicity nods, drifting towards him until their lips meet again.

The kiss is sweet, softer and more careful than before, and it’s cut short by the sound of a voice clearing behind them. “Maybe you could hold off until after I leave?” 

Biting back a laugh, Felicity leans around Oliver, recognizing Thea’s voice before laying eyes on her. She smiles at the girl, her cheeks growing red as she gently nudges Oliver away. While they disentangle, Thea scrunches her nose, feigning disgust long enough for them to notice before she smiles back.

With a sigh, Oliver takes a step away, holding out his hand to help Felicity down from the counter. Then he glances at his sister, “I regret giving you a key to the house more and more every day, do you realize that?”

Thea shrugs in response, unbothered. “When will breakfast be ready?”

With another exaggerated sigh, Oliver gestures to the food they’d forgotten about. “Why don’t you come scramble the eggs?”

Thea raises an eyebrow, taking off her purse and coat, setting them on the chair. “I thought I was coming over as a guest,” she grins at her brother, teasing even a she heads for the sink to wash her hands. 

“You’ll be a guest once you start ringing the doorbell like a normal guest,” Oliver retorts, “rather than breaking in here with the key that I gave you for _emergencies_.”

“Well,” Thea tosses Felicity a wink over her shoulder, “I think I just learned my lesson today.” She scrunches her nose, “never want to walk in on _that_ again.”

To his credit, Oliver drops the subject. Not without rolling his eyes though. Felicity tries not to laugh, but fails. Oliver and Thea both glance at her, and she clears her throat, remembering how nervous she was about Thea coming over. How worried she was that this might be awkward.

And it suddenly feels very awkward.

“Roy couldn’t come?” Felicity asks, aiming to break the uncomfortable air filling the room, like they’re all remembering, in the same moment, all that had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“He had to finish some things up at the shop,” Thea explains quietly. She tilts her head at Oliver, “you’re a better cook than me, big bro. Why don’t you handle the scrambling? Felicity and I will set the table.”

His eyes shift between them, and Felicity can read him like an open book. He knows his sister can be ruthless when she wants to. But he also knows that she won’t bring out her claws unless she _has_ to. As much as Felicity had been anxious over the wrath of being on Thea Queen’s bad side, it’s obvious that this isn’t any easier for Oliver. He’d already expressed that she and Thea are the two most important people to him. And Felicity imagines that it would break his heart if they can’t get along.

Forcing a smile, Felicity takes the plates from the counter, gesturing for his sister to follow. Wordlessly, the two of them walk to the dining room, and Felicity keeps her eyes on the task, although she can feel Thea’s attention focused on her.

“I don’t blame you for my brother getting shot, you know,” Thea finally starts. _The_ _brave_ _one_.

Felicity’s eyes fly up to the girl, her jaw tightening despite the warm expression on Thea’s face. “I would understand if you did,” she whispers back. “I mean...I’m the one who brought Adrian Chase into his life. Adrian came here looking for me, so, you know...some might say it’s my fault.”

“Maybe,” Thea answers honestly, giving a passive shrug. “ _Some_ might say that. But I don’t see it that way.” Taking a deep breath, Felicity just nods. “Look,” Thea continues, “I know Oliver better than anyone. Your ex is lucky that he’s still breathing after what he did to you. And I’m lucky that my brother’s alive and not facing murder charges.”

Felicity let out a breathy laugh, “I guess that’s one good thing.”

“It is,” Thea smiles back. “And just so you know,” she approaches, placing both hands on each of Felicity’s shoulders. “If Adrian Chase wasn’t rotting in prison right now...I’d kill him myself.”

This time, Felicity chokes out a watery laugh, pulling Thea into her arms. 

Oh, she’d really been missing those hugs. _The Queen siblings might be reserved with their affections and guarded with their hearts, but they give the_ best _hugs._

“I’m so happy that you’re back,” Thea mumbles, her arms tightening around Felicity’s waist. “Oliver needs you. And more importantly, he loves you.”

Those words from Thea, her forgiveness and acceptance...it’s something Felicity didn’t realize she wanted as much as she does. “Thank you,” Felicity hugs Thea tighter. Because it really does mean _everything_.

The doorbell rings, and Thea picks her head up from Felicity’s chest. “That must be Roy.” She’s just starting to pull away when Oliver breezes by them.

He runs his hand down Felicity’s back as he passes, giving Thea an appreciative smile. “I’ll get it.”

Felicity looks down at Thea, squeezing her one more time before letting go. She blinks back the moisture in her eyes. Happy tears, of course. But still, she’s done enough crying.

Thea does the same, each of them composing themselves because they know that if Roy walks in to see them crying, they’ll never hear the end of it.

“Oh, you poor thing!” A loud, horrified voice calls from down the hallway.

Felicity gasps at the sound, whipping her head around, hearing Oliver mumble his way through a response; “I’m fine, really. Uh, it’s good to see you.”

Moving towards the door, Felicity feels her heart hammering in her chest. She rounds the corner to see exactly what she expected to see.

Her mother.

Donna is standing in the foyer in front of Oliver, the door still open as she fusses over the scar on his eyebrow from his scuffle with Adrian. “Mom?” Felicity yelps, her mouth dropping open.

* * *

 

Donna turns at the sound of Felicity’s voice, a bright smile on her face when she sees her. “My baby!” She shrieks, bouncing her way over to Felicity on teetering high heels and throwing her arms around her daughter. Felicity hugs her back instinctively, but her eyes are panicked as she meets Oliver’s gaze.

He stares back at Felicity, nodding once. _Everything’s okay._

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

Donna leans back from Felicity’s embrace, frowning. “I’ve been calling you all morning to tell you I was coming.”

Felicity purses her lips, giving her mom a look that says _not good enough._ Which Donna seems to understand. The woman’s frown deepens, “honey, you could at least look a little bit happy to see me. I just spent thirty minutes in the back of a cab while the driver chain smoked the whole way from the airport.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here, mom.” Felicity crosses her arms over her chest, her tell-tale sign that she was growing uncomfortable. Oliver moves silently to her side, drawing a soothing hand down the length of her spine and back.

“I know that,” Donna answers, watching them curiously. “I just thought that my baby might need me today. Adrian Chase’s conviction is in a few hours, isn’t it?”

With his hand on her shoulder, Oliver feels the way Felicity stiffens, and he gently kneads his thumb where she tenses. “Yes,” he answers for her, sensing that Felicity isn’t quite ready to talk about whether or not Adrian will remain at Slabside...or if he’ll be set free. Much less with her mother. “Felicity’s lawyer is going to call us as soon as they know.”

Felicity keeps her gaze on Donna, tensing even more. “The last time we spoke, it didn’t seem like you were quite convinced of Adrian’s crimes. I wasn’t really sure if you’d want this. For Adrian to be convicted, I mean.”

Donna’s eyes spark with tears, “I know,” she nods, forcing a smile that’s sad and flat. “I didn’t understand. I’m sorry, Felicity,” her mother blinks back more tears. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about calling off the wedding, and for not listening… I didn’t want to believe that my baby was being treated that way, right under my nose, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to hear what that sick bastard did to you. I didn’t want to believe that it was possible. I was selfish when you called. And upset. And I’m so sorry.”

 _It’s a start._  

Felicity doesn’t take her eyes off of her mother, and Donna stares right back. After a long moment, Felicity sighs, slipping out from under Oliver’s hand so she can wrap her arms around her mom. “It’s okay,” she soothes Donna’s tears. “I dropped it all on you at once. You didn’t know, mom. It’s okay.”

Donna pulls back, lifting her chin and looking down at her daughter. “But I should have known. I never should have encouraged… Felicity, this is my fault.”

Smiling sadly, Felicity brushes her mom’s hair back, reminding Oliver that their parental role in each other’s lives had gone both ways, fluctuating so that both women could be everything to the other.

It’s a bond that he understands won’t be broken. A bond too strong for Adrian Chase to drive a wedge between. And a bond that had even convinced Oliver to stay away, when everything in his gut had told him to fight for Felicity...

“There’s enough blame going around,” Felicity whispers, glancing back at Oliver. “I think it’s time we all let go of it.”

With the memory of his strain with Donna fresh in his mind, Oliver does his best to bottle it. 

It wouldn’t change anything and there was no point in dredging up the past.

Luckily Donna appears to be on the same page, staying silent about the night the two of _them_ had last spoken.

Still, it’s only a matter of minutes before Thea catches on to the tension between him and Felicity’s mother. Roy arrives shortly after Donna, which provides a nice distraction, but by the time they finish eating breakfast, his little sister is far too nosy to let it go. 

She follows Oliver into the kitchen when he moves to clear the plates from the table, hissing in his ear as soon as they’re out of the room.

“Okay, spill,” Thea demands, to which he offers her a blank look in return. Her eyes narrow, “you and Donna. What’s going on there?”

“Nothing,” Oliver replies calmly, shrugging as he sets to getting the dishes in the sink.

 _It’s definitely_ something _. And it’s_ definitely _not the time or place to be discussing it with his sister._

“Drop it, Thea,” he warns lowly, not meeting her eyes.

She stares back at him incredulously. “Like hell. I’m guessing whatever it is that has you glaring daggers across your pancakes at Donna, Felicity doesn’t know about?”

“I was not—” he huffs, annoyed with her dramatics. _Surely, he wasn’t glaring any daggers. He was being cautious._  

He and Felicity were on the right track. They were _getting_ _there_. But Donna could still change all of that. Her opinion matters to Felicity. And as far as Oliver knew, she stopped being his biggest fan the night he’d abandoned her daughter.

“I broke Felicity’s heart two years ago,” Oliver grumbles, still avoiding Thea’s impatient expression. “Of course I’m not her mother’s favorite person.”

Thea considers the words, watching him as he shoves the dishes into the washer. “No,” she shakes her head. “It’s more than that. Tell me, Oliver.”

They’re in the middle of a sibling stare-down, neither of them noticing when Felicity walks in with the rest of the plates.

“All right,” She interrupts, giving Oliver a sharp look as she sidles up to him, placing the dirty dishes in the sink. “ _What_ is going on here?”

Oliver sighs, noting that Roy and Donna have joined them as well. But he doesn’t look up. He’s unable to meet Felicity’s eyes. _Well_...

So instead, Oliver focuses attention on Donna. 

With a sigh of her own, Donna seems to realize the same thing as him. This was bound to come out one way or another. 

Taking a step forward, Donna raises her chin confidently, but she crosses her arms in the same way Felicity does when she’s nervous. 

“Okay,” Oliver whispers. Obviously there’s no avoiding this. Thea was one thing, but he’s not about to dodge Felicity. Not when she’s asking him for the truth. 

He keeps his gaze on her mother, “I’m sorry,” he tells her, “no more secrets.”

“Secrets?” Felicity’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as soon as his words are out. “What are you talking about?”

* * *

 

Surprisingly, the tension between Oliver and Donna is worse than that between Felicity and Donna. 

Granted, her mother had not been shy about her dislike for Oliver.

But that had only happened after Oliver left Starling. And Felicity had been hoping that recent events would’ve absolved Oliver of her judgments... 

Her mom had thrown a label onto Oliver Queen the moment he left Starling without a word. The moment he’d left Felicity without looking back.

It was the same label that Donna had given Felicity’s father. 

A traitor.

A coward.

The man who had stolen Felicity’s heart and then run away with it.

For her mother, the cycle had repeated over and over, like a movie on repeat. But her dad had hurt Donna most of all. 

And as soon as Oliver was gone, Donna wanted Felicity to be okay again. To heal. She was full of advice and warnings. Yet deep down, Felicity had always known that Oliver and her father were not the same. That while Donna had been mistreated and abandoned, Oliver had hurt himself by leaving, just as much as he’d hurt Felicity.

Still, by the time Adrian came along...well, both of the Smoak women had miscalculated. Misjudged him. They’d seen Adrian Chase as an answer to a problem, when all he amounts to is a page in Felicity’s life that she wouldn’t mind forgetting.

There were plenty of mistakes when it comes to her and Oliver’s past. But none of that seems like a reason for the weird energy happening between two of her favorite people in the kitchen that morning. _Who_ _had_ _once_ _gotten_ _along_ _so_ _well_ , _mind_ _you_. 

The cold look on Oliver’s face as he speaks to her mother catches Felicity off guard. And so does the way Donna narrows her eyes in response, the hostility clear.

And it’s in those tense moments that Thea chooses her exit, dragging an unwilling Roy out of the room. 

Oliver’s eyes flicker to his sister and her boyfriend as they go, bickering lowly, because Roy wants to stay and see what happens. Then he looks at Felicity, an apology in his gaze.

Since they’d gotten home from the hospital, she hadn’t seen guilt in Oliver’s eyes. Not like the look he gives her now. Oliver wasn’t sorry for his fight with Adrian. He didn’t regret that day. He made no apologies and asked for none in return. He was at peace with it.

“Honey,” Donna finally speaks, drawing Felicity’s gaze away from him. “Do you mind if I speak with Oliver alone?”

Her gaze shifts back to Oliver, her eyebrows pushing together in confusion. He shakes his head instantly. “If there’s anything you need to say to me, Ms. Smoak...your daughter deserves to hear it, too.”

 _Good_ _or_ _bad_ , he leaves unsaid.

Sighing, Donna nods. “All right then,” she points to the counter, and Oliver gives a curt nod, holding his breath while the woman takes a seat in his kitchen. 

She picks the same chair Felicity had sat in the night she’d come back to him, and she can’t help but look at him; the love of her life. And pray that whatever this is...it doesn’t change anything.

Hesitantly, Felicity sits down on the stool next to her mother, tugging her sweater tighter around herself. Although she wishes Oliver would cross the room, let his arms give her the comfort she’s looking for. But he stays put.

“I owe you an apology, Oliver,” Donna starts. She drops her hand to Felicity’s thigh, giving her daughter a sad smile. “And you too, baby girl.”

“Mom,” Felicity blinks, “I already told you it’s okay. You just needed some time to digest everyth—”

“Not for that,” Donna interrupts with a shake of her head. “Do you remember the weekend I came to visit you, after Oliver left?” Felicity swallows, and nods. “You were in a pretty low place, and I thought it would help to get rid of things he’d left at your apartment.”

“You also smudged my entire place,” Felicity answers breathlessly, glancing at Oliver just to roll her eyes. “It smelled like sage and lavender for a week.”

Smiling, Donna squeezes Felicity’s knee. “You also got very drunk. And not the fun kind of drunk,” she clarifies, shooting a look at Oliver. “I mean, it went from giggling to crying on the bathroom floor in record time—”

“Okay,” Felicity winces, shaking her head before her mom can continue. _Oliver does_ not _need to hear about that embarrassing low point._ “What about it?”

“Well,” Donna pulls her hand away, dropping them both in her lap and not looking up. “After I got you to bed...Oliver called.”

Pausing, Felicity looks at Oliver, but he just stares back at her, his eyes not telling her very much. 

_What?_

“He called your phone, and I answered,” Donna admits in a whisper. Felicity stares at both of them, wondering why the hell she never knew about this.

At the time, there really wasn’t anything Felicity wanted more than to hear from him. Just to hear his voice and know that he was okay.

“I was was harsh,” Donna continues, not lifting her eyes from her hands. “I demanded that he leave you alone and let you move on. I told him he never deserved you and never would.”

When she looks back at Oliver, she can see the brokenness. His head hangs to his chest as if there’s some truth to that. It’s like the words are cutting him open, exposing him. But this isn’t the first time he’s heard them. And it’s certainly not lost on Felicity that her mom had only confirmed what Oliver had already been telling himself back then; that he didn’t deserve her.

“I can’t…” Felicity forces herself to look away from Oliver. “Mom…why would you do that?”

Tears threaten the older woman’s eyes. “You were in so much pain, Felicity. I blamed Oliver...but if I’m being honest, I was terrified, baby.” She swallows back her emotion, “I was so afraid that you’d end up like me. I just didn’t want to you get hurt again.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make,” Felicity snaps back, too shocked by her mom’s meddling to feel any sympathy for her reasons.

The anger Felicity wrestles with breeds tension. She couldn’t blame Donna for falling for Adrian’s charm...but _this_?

“I know I overstepped,” Donna tries again.

Felicity scoffs, “that’s an understatement,” she replies through her teeth while her mom deflates.

And Oliver clears his throat, a look in his eyes as if he wants to smooth the waters before they get too rough. “It was just one phone call, Felicity,” he says quietly. His smile is warm, calming her. “I should have called again...talked to _you_.”

Felicity lets out a deep breath. “Please don’t make excuses for her,” she shakes her head. “Oliver had just lost his mother,” Felicity turns her heated gaze back to Donna. “ _He_ was in pain too, mom. And he already felt so low and so hard on himself, and that’s the way you spoke to him?”

“Felicity…” Oliver tries to interject.

“That night,” Felicity cuts him off. “Before you even called, did you feel like you didn’t deserve me?”

He hesitates, his eyes searching hers, trying to see where that question is going. “Yes,” he replies honestly after a moment.

Felicity nods once, her eyes cold. “You were both wrong.”

They each accept it, knowing that she’s right. 

“I’m sorry,” Donna deflates.

Oliver steps closer to Felicity, until his eyes are the only thing she can focus on. “I’m sorry for that night, honey,” he takes her hand in his, easing her off the chair to stand in front of him. “And all the nights after it when I should have reached out. But I want you to understand...I know now that I deserve you. You deserve to be loved by someone who can give you every piece of his heart. 

“And you have mine,” he presses his forehead to hers. “I was happy to give it to you. I still am.”

There were plenty of reasons that Felicity had fallen in love with him. Her soft spoken, passionate, headstrong man. He didn’t let many people see beneath his rough exterior, but he’d always left himself open for her. _And he’s absolutely right._ She deserves to be loved like this. 

He deserves that kind of love in return, too.

Behind them, Donna clears her throat. “Listen...I can’t tell you both how sorry I am. But I’ve never seen two people better suited for each other than the two of you.”

Felicity softens, her anger melting slightly. “Thank you, mom.”

“I know you’ve never put much faith in my beliefs, Felicity,” her mom sighs. “But I do believe in destiny. I believe that some people are meant to be together. I never should have stood in the way of it. And for whatever it’s worth,” Donna smiles at Oliver, making sure that he understands, “I’m _so_ _happy_ that you found your way back to each other again.”

Letting go of Oliver, Felicity reaches her hand out for Donna to take. 

It’d been a messy, painful, and at times brutally heartbreaking path. But so worth it. Whatever they have to face, they’re together. Whatever happens next, they’re on the same path now. _And that’s all that matters._

Felicity’s phone begins to ring, and Oliver picks it up from the counter. As he holds it out for her, Felicity glances down at the number, recognizing it as her lawyer’s. And she instinctively steps closer into Oliver’s embrace while her other hand squeezes Donna’s.

“Hey,” Oliver mumbles against her ear, “you’re the fiercest woman I know, Felicity. You’ve got this.”

Looking up at Oliver, Felicity takes a deep breath, seeing nothing but calmness in his eyes. He’s confident that Adrian will be in prison for at least ten years, just as their lawyers are confident. 

Two weeks ago, three of Oliver’s neighbors had watched Adrian shoot him. They had multiple eye-witnesses who testified against Adrian during the trial. Felicity also gave her own statement that she knew was sound, as well as Oliver’s. Not to mention, an alarming number of people had come forward to convey their own encounters with the District Attorney. There were things Felicity didn’t even know about. Shady deals, harassment, and cover-ups at his offices that all came crashing down on him.

Her lawyer said that she’d never been more confident in a conviction.

Yet, there’s still a tiny voice in Felicity’s head. One she’s tried to keep quiet, even to herself. A part of her that fears, no matter the evidence, Adrian will still find a way to get what he wants. _Doesn’t he always get his way?_

With her phone still ringing, the little voice tells Felicity that this can’t be so simple. _Hook, line, and sinker? It’s never been the way with Adrian Chase..._

No one really knows Adrian like she does. Going down quietly isn’t in his blood. “What if he charmed the pants off the jury?” She bites her lip, panicked eyes landing on Oliver. “Or worse, bribed them?”

“Felicity,” Oliver presses his lips to her temple, his hand smoothing over her shoulder, calling her back. “We worked very hard to make sure there wasn’t a single crack for him to slither out of. Adrian had nowhere to hide during that trial. He’s guilty. Now all of Star City knows it, too. He doesn’t have enough favors to save him from this.” 

Her phone had gone to voicemail, but her lawyer is almost as persistent as her mother, so it just begins ringing again within seconds. Sucking in a deep breath, Felicity musters up her own courage. And she borrows some of Oliver’s strength, too. And then she answers the phone.

Jean grunts in greeting before Felicity’s done saying hello. “I have some bad news.”

Felicity’s heart sinks into her stomach, and she can’t even manage to blink as she watches Oliver’s eyes darken.

_Whatever they have to face, they’re together._

“Well,” Jean sighs. “Good news and bad news. Good news first?” Before Felicity has a chance to answer, Jean decides for her. “Adrian Chase was convicted today. One count of stalking, four counts of agitated assault, abuse, and an attempted murder charge to top it all off. The courts will look into his professional transgressions as the District Attorney in another trial. But I have no doubt that he’ll be found guilty on those charges as well.”

The words are a relief, as is the smile on Oliver’s face. But Jean’s tone doesn’t sound pleased at all. Before they celebrate… “What’s the bad news?”

“While he was being transported to Slabside…” Jean trails off, unable to find the words. And everything suddenly clicks for Felicity. 

Adrian’s calm demeanor in court. The nagging voice in her head for the last two weeks. The feeling that he would never sit back and let this all happen. Not unless he had a plan.

“He escaped,” Felicity finishes, already knowing it in her heart and in her gut. She hears her mother gasp, but she can’t bring herself to look up from Oliver’s shirt. She focuses on his breaths, noticing when they become more shallow, his embrace tightening.

“Yes,” Jean confirms lowly. 

The room is silent for a long moment, and Felicity slowly looks up to meet Oliver’s gaze. 

There’s something dark in his eyes again. The same look that had made her hope that Adrian and Oliver would never come face to face, knowing somewhere deep down that it would end badly. 

The peacefulness inside of him, the confidence from before, wavers as he breathes through a string of curses. “Felicity…” Oliver shakes his head, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

_Whatever happens next, they’re on the same path now._

_And that’s all that matters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh :') As good as it feels to post a final chapter, it's bittersweet. I loved writing for these versions of Oliver and Felicity. I hope you guys enjoyed them, too!  
> My original plan was to end it with the phone ringing, so we wouldn't actually know Adrian's fate. But I have a lovely, incredibly helpful beta (blondeeoneexox) who thought we could add a little more angst than that ;)  
> Thank you all so much for the comments and words of encouragement! It was so so SO appreciated with this story. Some of the things you guys have shared with me because of this fic have blown me away. Couldn't ask for anything more! Thank you thank you thank you<3


End file.
